Warning: Hitchhikers May be Escaping Nazis
by Baxyratty
Summary: When an old enemy of England devastates London, he is betrayed by his two most talented Officers. Now that they are in Gotham will the Batman be able to stop them or will he be caught in an war he can't win?  co-written with Master of the Boot
1. Escape to Gotham

**Disclaimer: We do not own Hellsing or Batman. Those are owned by Kouta Hirano and DC Comics respectively. All other characters mentioned in passing are property of their respective owners. We make no profit from this story nor do we wish to.**

The Deus ex Machina shook as it took yet another anti tank round fired from the Harkonen Cannon. Minor officers and tech personnel scrambled to and fro trying to maintain the systems necessary to keep their command ship aloft. Only three people on the bridge, namely the Major, the Captain, and Warrant Officer Schrödinger seemed unaffected by the chaos going on around them.

The Major stared at the large view screen showing the burning remains of jolly old London, which was neither really jolly nor London by this point. Instead, it looked similar to a post apocalyptic wasteland. Buildings were crumbling into piles of powdered brick and twisted, half-melted steel. The whole vision was glorious, He had even ordered his men to burn a swastika the size of a stadium into the middle of London so that the world would never forget what he and his Last Battalion had done.

"Pet mir Major!" Schrödinger exclaimed as he crawled into his commanders lap. "All zhis deztruction is making mir giddy!" What seemed like an innocent gesture from the catboy, was actually a ploy. Unknown to all but the now deceased Rip van Winkle, Schrödinger and the Captain had carried on a secret courtship since 1952. And as all longtime lovers learn to get underneath each other's skin, the eternally child-like catboy knew just how to push his beloved Captain's buttons. As the Major continued to watch his handiwork and pet the boy in the Hitler Youth uniform, he was completely un aware of the glares the boy was receiving from his werewolf bodyguard.

The Blimp shook once more sending Schrödinger tumbling off of the Major's lap and onto the floor. As the child shook his head and regained this bearings, one of the handfull of technicians left on the bridge cried out. "Stumbahnfuhrer, Sie ist hier, Sie ist hier! (1)" he exclaimed in a panic, not knowing that this was all going according to the Majors plan, which was at its heart a well organized suicide pact between himself and his officers.

The Major's smile grew even wider, "Captain, Varrent Officer, it is time ve bring ein end to zhis symphony. To your places, you know vhat to do." With a silent nod from the Captain and a snappy Hitler salute from Schrödinger both departed, to their destination, the Captain toward the entrance to the blimp with the last handful of troops that the battalion had at their disposal, and Schrödinger teleporting to the observation deck at the top of the blimp. Once the last of his men had left the bridge, he activated the bulletproof glass casing around his chair and activated the commlink.

"Doktor," he began, "I hope you have She secured?"

"Of course Major, She should be safe guarded against zhe destruction of zhe blimp."

The Major smiled before addressing his oldest ally, "Aufwidersehen (2) Doktor! I vill see you in Valhallah!"

"Aufweidersehen Major. It has been an honor to serve you!" responded Millennium's resident scientist before he switched off his end of the commlink.

"It over Major, you've lost your war!" came the voice of Integra Hellsing as she strode confidently into the room the second the Major's conversation had ended. But he had expected this. He had ordered the Captain to allow her to pass. He intended to deliver one final blow to his worthy adversary. First she would watch Alucard die at Schrödinger's hands, and then he would watch her die at his.

"On zhe contrary Herr Hellsing, the curtain has yet zu fall!" The Major said, his smile remaining plastered on his face, "Now that you're heir. ve can vatch zhe final act!" He spun his char around and activated his view screen, and for once his smile faltered. The screen showed an empty observation deck on the top of the blimp. The cat-eared child who was supposed to be sacrificing himself in order to defeat the great Alucard was nowhere to be found.

"Schrödinger! Schrödinger! YOU'RE RUINING EVERYZING! VHERE IN ZHE HOLLE (3) ARE DU!" the Major futilely screamed at the screen. At that moment Seras barged through the doors to the bridge looking utterly confused.

"Sir, that cat-boy-thing, showed up and teleported away with the werewolf!" At this statement, both the Major and Integra both raised a brow, something weird was going on, and each was wracking their own brain trying to discern what it was. They would not have to wait for long for a scant thirty seconds later the commlink on the Major's chair turned on.

"Is this zing on? Hey schatz (4) you sure its zhe orange button? Ah, yup he hears me!" It was Schrödinger, and the Major could swear he could hear the Doctor screaming in the background.

"Schrödinger, where is the Doktor? What have you done vith him?" he demanded only to have the boy giggle in response. Even though he couldn't see the child he was sure that the boy was flashing one of his impish grins.

"Oh Dok und mein Kapitan are having lunch…or zhe Kapitan ist having him for lunch, my mistake." "there was another giggle before he continued, "Oh und don't zink about torching us, I broke zhat little box zing!. Frau Hellsing, if your zhere, I'd leave, zings are going to get ein bit…umm…like an action film Ja? First, ve disable zhe Major's char so he stays in his little box, und zhen Ich hit zhis big button over here und…zhere ve go." with that sirens within the zeppelin sounded and a computerized voice sounded throughout the blimp

_Self-destruct sequence initiated, t minus one minute thirty seconds and counting_ it spoke in emotionless German.

"vhen you get zu holle mein Major, give mein regards to mein Vater...I meen zhe Fuhrer. Come on mein Kapitan, I'm getting bored heir." With that the commlink clicked off. Seras raised her cannon and blew a hole into the main screen in the bridge of the zeppelin. Without a word the Draculina grabbed Integra and sprouted her shadow wing and leapt from the flying transport, and off into the night sky.

For his part, the Major typed furiously on the control pad of his chair, but to no effect. He had done it, Schrödinger had actually disabled his chair. The Major let out one last wide smile and closed his eyes. The last thought which crossed his mind before he was atomized by the explosion was that he had taught the catboy well, and perhaps too well.

On the outskirts of London Schrödinger and the Captain watched the burning remains of the Deus ex Machina sink behind the skyline of the nearly leveled English capital, hands intertwined gently yet securely. "It's pretty isn't it Hans? Like firevorks!" Hans nodded slowly and emotionlessly. After a few moments of silence, Schrödinger smiled an impish smile and spoke, "Let's go mein Kapitan, someone ist vaiting for us." And with that both Schrödinger and the Captain disappeared into the either of existence.

* * *

><p>Gotham, the very name had become synonymous with the very depths of human depravity and corruption. With its sprawling buildings and decrepit architecture it was like Earth's very own Mos Eisley, sans the computer graphics added in later by an old director trying to squeeze every last penny out of a series that should have been allowed to rest decades ago. Despite the fact that Gotham had been rated America's worst city to live in since 1920, things were beginning to change. Police commissioner James Gordon had spent the last several decades of his life combating crime and corruption in the overly hostile streets of Gotham City, and everyone from the lowliest street gang to the most devious super criminals, mad geniuses and homicidal mutants found it much more difficult to ply their trades.<p>

But Commissioner Gordon did not accomplish these amazing feats alone, he had help, a man named Bruce Wayne, eccentric billionaire by day, crime fighter by night. He was the dark angle standing guard over the innocent people left in Gotham, he was their savior, their dark knight, and he was the Batman. In the early dawn hours he was perched atop a gargoyle on the side of one of the multitude of skyscrapers which littered Gotham and nearly blotted out the sun. It was a good night for the Batman, he had stopped five murders, three rapes, a mugging and a homeless man who was urinating on City Hall. Usually he would retire with the breaking of the dawn to catch a few hours of sleep before he had to resume his normal life as a billionaire, but this morning he couldn't. It wasn't that he knew of an upcoming caper, or any such event, but for the past two weeks something felt off, as if something alien had entered Gotham, something dangerous and new. He had been able to brush this feeling away, but it had grown until he was not able to get any sleep at all.

_Bruce, it's Oracle, come in_. The woman who was known as Oracle was once Batgirl, one of Batman's sidekicks. That all ended a few years ago when the Joker shot her in the spine. That whole affair had nearly gotten Batman incarcerated or killed because the Batgirl was none other than the commissioner's daughter Barbara Gordon. Barbara had not given up but had repurposed herself even in her now paralyzed state from Batman's personal backup, to his greatest source for research and advice outside of his butler Alfred.

"Go ahead Oracle," Batman responded into the commlink hidden underneath the bat-like mask he always wore while on the job, simultaneously snapping out of a little trip down memory lane, "I'm listening"

_I did some research, and your right,_ she responded _but not in Gotham, something weird went down in England and Brazil last month. About a month ago a manor belonging to a woman named Integra Hellsing was invaded. The attack was repulsed by some of her guards eventually, but there's nothing indicating how._

"Anything else?"That was strange Batman was sure of that, but he didn't see the connection to how that would have affected Gotham.

_Yeah, listen to this about a week later a hotel was taken over by terrorists in Rio de Jinero in the chaos the followed half of Rio's police department and about one hundred civilians were slaughtered_. _A week later some militant Neo-Nazi group hijacked an aircraft carrier, the HMS Eagle. Apparently that was just a distraction because a scant day later the rst of the group showed up in some zeppins and began to bomb London. And the strangest part is the attack just stopped._

"Stopped?"

_Yeah, in the early morning hours of the next day, the command zeppelin just…exploded. The BBC is claming that it was just a lucky mechanical malfunction, but…All this happened over a month, this wasn't just a random series random terrorist attacks, they were too close together, it looks like someone was trying to start a war_.

"Why would anyone want to start a war with England?" the Dark Knight wondered out loud as he repelled off of the Gargoyle and began gliding from rooftop to rooftop toward Wayne Enterprises.

_Revenge? Spoils? Power? Who knows Bruce, but just in case this isn't over, be careful._ Oracle's voice was filled with genuine concern, leaving Bruce with no choice to assuage the young woman's fears.

"I will Barbara, I always am." He said reassuringly as he climbed into an open window on the top floor of the Wayne enterprises building.

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to batman, or anyone else in Gotham, war had already come to the city. The only saving grace was that even those who would turn the city into a warzone had no idea they were going to either. Driven by strange dreams and messages which had seemingly appeared in their minds Schrödinger and the Captain had betrayed the Major and arrived in Gotham two weeks ago. Unfortunately for them, they had no idea what they were looking for, all they knew was that whatever it was, it was in Gotham, was known to them as HS, and had promised them an unending tide of violence if they obeyed.<p>

Despite the lack of direction, things had gone relatively smoothly. They had found a group of squatters in an abandoned storage facility, murdered them and taken their makeshift home as their own. Schrödinger had even lured a horny pedophile into a back alley to provide the Captain with food, and commandeered the now deceased man's car. All of this was done with very little trouble from law enforcement which as the two surviving members of Millennium discovered, was easy to avoid as long as one avoided walking into public and screaming "Hi! I'm a criminal I'm going to commit a crime now!" as seemed to be the fashion of the majority of the criminals in Gotham.

As far as the eternal neko child was concerned, life was going pretty well, or would have been if his darling Hans wasn't mad at him

"Vhy are you reading zhat Russ trash mein Kapitan?" he said, mouth filled with a large portion of the fish sandwich he had picked up using the little bit of cash he had found on the body of the pedophile who was in the process of digesting in Hans's stomach. The Captain looked up from a copy of Dostoyevsky's _War and Peace_ one of the few things he took with him besides his weapons before he helped to destroy the Deus ex Machina. The Captain blanked his mind so that he could give his telepathic lover the cold shoulder, and accompanied it with one of his trademark glares before he resumed reading.

"vhat did I do mein lieber? (5)" the neko boy questioned but still recived no response, Putting on his best pouty face the boy put his sandwich down and skulked over to his boyfriend of almost fifty years and bent down to nuzzle his camo covered legs. "Ich koennen nicht 'es tut mir leid' sagan wann ich weiss nicht was ich getan hat. (6)"

_Du bist nicht immer bereuen, so es mach nicht ob ich sage was du hast getan. _(7) the Captain thought back.

"Are you still mad about mich asking zhe Major to pet mich?" Hans dog-eared the page he was on in his book before setting it next to him, a sign to Schrödinger that he had guessed correctly. "Oh mein Gott, du are zo much of a jealous person! You fuck othzer people all zhe time und I never say a zing! Remember before Rip vent zu zhe Adler?" Schrodinger huffed as he put his hands on his slim hips

_Ve all knew zhat was going to be her last mission und zhat vas zhe last zing she vanted! _ The Captain retorted mentally

"Und Blitz? Zhat vas befor zhe var!"

_Ich told du I vas drunk!_

"Oh I suppose you vere drunk vhen you slept vith zhat vaitress vhen zhe Major took zhe officers zu Japan fur vacation?"

_Zhat vaitress came on zu mir und du know it! Vhat about du hunh? Zrhere vas zhat transvestite in Brazil, und Dok's assistant in forty five, und zhat veekend do ran off zu San Francisco in zhe eighties!_

Schrödinger was about to respond to these accusations, all of which were true, but paused for a moment to ponder something, "vait, Rip, Zorin, vhich is disgusting by zhe vay, zhe vaitress…I'm zhe only boy you've ever slept vith?"

The werewolf blushed slightly _No, _he admitted _I slept vith one ozer after Vorld Var Eins, before du vere created. An Amerikan named Ja-_

"If du say Jack Harkness I'm going zu attack du!" the cat-boy interjected.

_It vas Jack Harkness_ the werewolf thought back with a barely noticeable smirk

"Oh zhat's it!" Schrödinger exclaimed as he leapt on the makeshift bed and began biting and scratching at his superior and lover. For his part, the Captain grabbed his copy of _War and Peace_ and bashed the boy on the side of the head with just enough force to daze him, before rolling over on to him and pinning his arms over his head. Hans knew there was only one way to calm Schrödinger down when he got this angry, so with no time to waste he locked lips with the neko boy. It took only about half a minute for Schrödinger to cease his struggling, at which point Hans let go of his lover's arms and began scratching him behind his big fluffy, black furred ears. Several minutes passed before the werewolf sensed that the catboy was calm enough to be under control once more, at which point he began to back off, only to feel the boy begin to buck and grind underneath him, brushing his tiny waist against his washboard abs.

_Nein! _the Captain barked mentally as he rolled back over and resumed reading his book

"Aww come on!" the catboy whined, "It been a month already mein Schatz…pretty, pretty please vith zucker (8) on top?"

_Nein!_ The elder werewolf repeated sternly

"Vould it hilf if I zay I'm sorry fur making du jealous?" Schrödinger asked trying to look and sound as cute as possible while doing so.

_Ich accept your apology but still nein._ the Captain replied, _I'm trying to read Schrodi_.

The catboy smiled, he liked it when the Captain used that nickname, but only the Captain, anyone else would loose theit balls.

"Fine zhen mein Kapitan." He replied using his own pet name for the Captain, "Can I at least cuddle vith du vhile du read?"

The Werewolf looked to the catboy with the ghost of a smile on his usually stone like face _Zhat du can do mein Katzchen._ (9)

And so Schrödinger nestled into his boyfriend's arms, ever so slowly trying to slink down his much taller lover's body in order to slip his hands down enough to un zip the werewolf's camo pants.

_Don't du even zink about it!_ Hans ordered sternly causing Schrödinger to sigh and retake his former position in his mute lover's arms. All and all, he was not truly disappointed though, they were finally free of the Major, they had all the time in the world now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That's it for the first chapter folks! This is a collaboration between myself and the amazing author Master of the Boot, who will be handleing Chapter 2. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Tell next time, good night and….I've got nothing,**

**~Baxyratty**

**Translations:**

1. Stumbahnfuhrer, Sie ist hier, Sie ist hier! = Major, she is here, she is here!

2. Aufwidersehen = Goodbye/Farewell

3. Holle = hell

4. Schatz = sweety/hun/darling

5. Lieber = lover

6. Ich koennen nicht 'es tut mir leid' sagan wann ich weiss nicht was ich getan hat. = I can't say "I'm sorry" if I don't know what I did.

7. Du bist nicht immer bereuen, so es mach nicht ob ich sage was du hast getan. = You are never sorry anyway so it doesn't matter if I tell tou what you did.

8. Zucker = Sugar

_9. Katzchen_ = kitten


	2. Tough Strangelove

Collab

Disclaimer: I do not own this story or the trademarked characters. This story is a collab between Baxyratty and me and it is too awesome.

_Gotham Entertainment Network, Channel six_

_The screen shows a young woman sitting behind a news desk. She's a young lady and very pretty, with a head of unnatural blonde hair and very pretty clothes that most certainly are making a lot of young men watch the news for reasons other than seeing the damn news. _

_However it would be a mistake to call Vicky Vale a bimbo. A former photographer, Vicky was forced to tackle soft hitting and otherwise mindless stories in order to further her journalistic career. _

_Vicki speaks as the news logo fades off the screen, "Hello and I'm Vicki Vale with Gotham Entertainment Network. In breaking news, actor Mel Gibson went on yet another drunken rage." _

_The screen behind Vicki shows a picture of the Australian former movie star with a swastika painted on his face; Mel is screaming, wearing only his underwear and being manhandled by several non-white policeman—something which I'm sure contributred to his unease. _

"_The now infamous movie star and legally registered psychopath was found exposing himself on public property while clamiing that "The f**king Nazis have returned to kill all the n***ers and k**kes, about time."_

_Vicki folds her hands on the table as a picture of George Clooney appears behind her, "In other news, hottest man of two thousand eleven George Clooney, who himself survived London's recent destruction made a statement that the mysterious terrorist attack on London was actually perpetuated by vampires." _

_The screen suddenly shifts to a short video clip of George Clooney heavily injured in hospital, the film star is frantic, "Psychos? F**king psychos! They were vampires; psychos do not explode when sunlight hits them, I don't give a f**k how crazy they are!" _

_The screen cuts back to Vicki, "Sevearl celebrities of the European and Hollywood ken have pooled together resourced to help London recover from its horrific terrorist attack. Later at eleven we will have Sean Penn appear to ask for aid for London's recovery." _

* * *

><p>With a click of a button, the Television was deactivated. The last thing he wanted to do was watch that silly bitch blabber around about people who'd done nothing more than be in a movie and get hooked on drugs.<p>

The figure set down the television remote and turned around. The laboratory was poorly lit and devoid of windows. Science is always expensive and the owner of the lab saved a bit of money by turning off the lights unless they were totally essential.

In the center of the dank room was a figure strapped down to an operating table. Lying there on the gurney was an apparently dead man in a vintage Nazi uniform. Several probes and IV lines were injected into the figure. To the side, a heartrate monitor registered no pulse while several other monitors of unknown origin listed numbers and data that was legible only to the man who invented them in the first place.

The human figure who had been watching television pulled out a handheld audio recording device and began to speak in it. "October 13, 2011, 16:45. My research on the subjects has thus far been fruitful, but for all I have learned I have so much more to understand."

The figure, dressed in a white lab coat and black rubber gloves paused, "To the untrained eye, the subject appears dead—undead, however to my more advanced psychic probes there is activity. Like a virus, it is not strictly alive in the sense of most carbon based life, however it does use living organisms to maintain its own functions and possibly even reproduce."

With that, Professor Hugo Strange adjusted his glasses and put away the recorder. Going into the rear of the room, he pulled out a strange device that looked like a mechanical praying mantis mixed with a sewing machine. Setting the machine next to the subject's head, Strange plugged the device into the wall. The mantis sewing machine began to light up and emit a small beeping noise. The next step was about to start.

From out of his pocket, Hugo Strange withdrew another small electronic device. Grabbing the subject by the hair, Hugo zapped the experimental victim—er, I mean subject.

The Nazi vampire on the gurney sprung to life like a piece of dead muscle tissue with a current running through it. If the creature looked human in its suspended animation state, it looked nothing of the sort awake. Blood red glowing eyes and mouth full of razor sharp teeth gave it the appearance of a chld's nightmare come to life. A distendable jaw caused the FREAK's mouth to open inhumanly wide.

The restraints held, though the gurney shook quite a bit. "_Ich mochte Auskunft, Oberleutnant_." Said Strange in German. His accent came through a bit rough but it wasn't bad. He used the German word _mochte_ which is the polite version of "I would like." There was no need for rudeness at a time like this.

The captive FREAK vampire on the gurney thrashed and struggled, but with its strength depleted as it was by Strange's tests, there was no way to even budge the restraints that held it. A special clamp went around the vampire soldier's neck and head, ensuring that it couldn't take off some fingers of his examiner/tormentor.

The FREAK wasn't interested in answering Hugo's questions. It continued to spew out a mixture of seventy year old German swear words and incoherent, animalistic growls.

Professor Strange wasn't the least bit worried. The subjet wouldn't excape. He flipped a few switches on the mantis sewing machine. "It's alright," he said soothingly, "this will help you." Without warning, he grabbed a syrninge off of a rolling rack next to him and plunged it into the FREAK's neck. The Nazi vampire's eyes widened as a strange chemical substance was injected into its cold veins.

"Remember," Strange hissed.

* * *

><p>"<em>So Bruce," Vicki asks in that brainless manner which totally insults her intelligence but don't frighten the mygognisit old fuckers who run this network, "Why are you of all people against the war on drugs?"<em>

_There across from her sits billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. With his dark hair, chiselled features and blue eyes, he's quite the catch. "Well Vicki, you know that I like to party and frankly there have been times when I've snorted half of the Canadian north. Basically, the drugs didn't kill me." _

"_But Bruce, what kind of message are you sending to the kids?" Viki asks, trying to play up the human interest angel to this admittedly shallow story. _

_Bruce shrugs and adjusts his tie. With his white, vacant smile he looks like a buff adult sized Ken doll. "Well Vicki, the way I see it, those kids are probably going to be doing drugs in college or later on in life if they go to college at all. Why make their lives harder with prison sentences and stuff like that. Jail should be for the likes of the Joker and Two-face; not some kid behind the counter of Burger King trying to snort a line." _

In Hugo Strange's lab, the captive FREAK vampire's growls of fury had morphed into pitiful mewels of pain. It sounded like someone was stomping on a kitten. Heedless of the vampire's soul killing agony, Strange tended to the mantis sewing machine that was now drilling small proves into the vampire's brain.

Hugo smiled; the light reflected off his thick glasses as the displayed glowed and reams of paper printed with data began to churn out of the machine. "Extraordinary", exclaimed Hugo as the mind reading machine began to rip thoughts from the vampire's head.

_Vicki Vale smiles at the camera, "And that concludes our exclusive interview with Gotham's favorite son. Tune in at eleven for more of your essential entertainment news."_

_Cue Gotham entertainment News logo. _

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne stepped through the front door of his ancestral home. The massive mansion was built of wood, stone and marble. Yet somehow there was tastefulness to the mansion. It was expensive and lavish but it didn't oppressor intimidate visitors with its opulence. Unlike Lex Luthor's mansion, which was basically a multimillion dollar "fuck you" to everybody who wasn't rich.<p>

Today after his interview on that idiotic news network, Bruce had opted to drive himself home. He'd given Alfred the day off and had donned the Bat suit various times to stop a few mischelaneous muggings and one bank robbery which was very well done.

Bruce walked through the front door, took a dozen steps and stopped. In a moment, the secret superhero began to observe his surroundings as if this were the first time he'd ever seen his family home. He looked lost. Less like Walter Kovacs and more like the Rain man.

Bruce looked around at the house. This place wasn't at all him and yet the unseen parts of the house were very much like him.

Bruce clenched his hands as he walked forward, trying to navigate the twisting maze of Wayne Manor and the twisted pathways of his own mind.

* * *

><p>The vampire on the table screamed in agony and begged for mercy. Blood tears fell down its face and several times it had bitten its tongue right off. Hugo merely grinned and recorded the results down as accurately as he could. "Magnificent," he gasped as his mind reading machine projected data regarding The Leztes Battallion, Hellsing, the war with Alucard and so much more.<p>

The mad scientist grinned, this was all so wonderful. Hugo had predicted long ago that ex-Nazis would attack London in a suicide pact among its officers but he'd never imagined that the whole attack would be carried out by vampires of all things. But as a scientist, Hugo's stock and trade was dealing in uncertainties and chaos. You want certainty, go to a priest. Not that any priest could have helped the vampire FREAK begging to die.

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne knocked on the door to Alfred's room. As Batman he could go anywhere; no place on this earth was off limits to him. He's hunt down crime whevervver it reared its ugly head and he'd fight whoever he had to do to do it. In England, Batman had done a good job pissing off Torchwood during his hunt for a crime syndicate led by an extraterrestrial.<p>

Torchwood found the alien technology destroyed courtesy of Batman and the alien crime lord was now locked up in Superman's Fortress of solitude. Torchwood was going to have to get in line with everyone else who wanted Batman's head on a lance.

Gently, the billionaire crime fighter knocked on the door. Nobody entered Alfred's room without permission. If God wanted to see Alfred, he was going to have to wait for Alfred to answer the door.

In a moment or two, the Wayne Butler answered the door. Alfred looked like a different person on his days off. Today he was unshaven and his crisp Butler's uniform was replaced with a pair of track pants and a tank top. "Master Wayne," Alfred smiled, "You are in luck, the movie_Bullit_ just ended. What can I do for you?" he asked as he took a swig of the bottle of beer in his hand.

Bruce lowered his gaze, for Alfred had done more for him than anyone else alive; the last thing he wanted to do was disrespect the man. "Alfred, when you have the time, I'd like to get in touch with some of your contacts in Mossad.'

Alfred blinked owlishly, "Oh, what for, Master Wayne?"

"I'm trying to look into the terrorist attack on London by Nazis," Bruce admitted.

The butler took another pull of his beer, "And you think that these Nazis might try to attack Gotham?"

Bruce shook his head, "I can't be sure, but I have to know. I can't be caught off guard."

Alfred seemed to understand and took another drink from his beer, "Well, I'll see what I can do after I finish watching _the French Connection_." Then with a little respectful bow, Alfred closed the door to his room and Bruce was left alone.

The vampire on the table went still. Its tongue lolled out and its eyes rolled. The mechanical mantis like machine was Hugo's pride and joy. Unfortunately it tended to be very harmful for humans. With the vampire, Hugo had turned the machine onto its maximum power, completely emptying the vampire's mind of even the most basic instincts; it didn't even know how to blink anymore.

Hugo Strange rubbed his beard in thought as the vampire's body slowly began to crumble. The machine had done more than suck out the vampire's mind, it had drained its very soul and now stored it in digital format. "So, someone did survive the destruction of the Battalion."

A smile graced his lips as Hugo started to weave a plan; a whole world of possibility had just opened to him. "And where would you go, where would I find you?" Hugo asked to no one in particular. "Where would I find a werewolf and a creature that is everywhere and nowhere."

Hugo then turned to the wall where a picture of Bruce Wayne hung. A look of twisted rage came across Hugo's face that was so sudden it was frightening. "Don't look at me, Batman. Don't look at me! I will replace you! I will have—I will have . . .

But Hugo couldn't finish it as he suddenly became choked up and his fragile mental state showed itself.

All that Hugo really wanted was to be the Batman . . . and he didn't care how many people he had to kill to achieve his dream.

Bruce Wayne waited in his study, simply waiting. Gone was his fine suit and business attire. Bruce simply sat back in a sweat soaked set of workout clothes, gradually getting colder. Scattered around the room were various crude weights.

Unlike other billionaires, Bruce's workout equptment consisted of simple iron weights, a treadmill, a sledgehammer and a giant tire. When he wasn't spending his considerable wealth on tools for the Batman, Bruce was actually a very frugal guy. Honestly, how much materiel wealth can a man have before it's all just meaningless?

Waiting for Alfred, Bruce had thrown himself into his training, practicing martial arts strikes in an old and dirty mirror and flipping the giant tire across the room back and forth until his arms and back felt like they were on fire.

Bruce was in contemplation but he revealed his thoughts to no one. He confided in no diary and even his loyal Butler Alfred did not fully understand what mania drove his master to night after night hunt those who would prey on the innocent.

The sun dipped past the horizon and night fell but Bruce did not move from his spot. Outside, rain fell and brought a bone deep chill and utter gloom to the night but Bruce still did not stir. He might have fallen asleep except that his eyes were just barely open.

Then suddenly from inside the manor, a light went off. A panel from the cailing slid away and a small floodlight popped out. Bruce's dark exercise room was flooded with light. His eyes snapped open straight away.

Bruce rose up, electrified. There shining on the wall was a bat symbol, a little something for a rainy day when the regular bat symbol wouldn't be visible.

The Bat symbol was on, it was time for Bruce Wayne to get to work. It was time for Batman to arise.

* * *

><p>Note: Hey to our loyal readers, Baxyratty here. This chapter was brought to you by The Master of the Boot. As per our alternating Chapter agreement i will be handleing the next chapter! so what do you guys think so far? crazy enouugh for you? if not then just hold your horses after all it is us at the helm, things are sure to go insane sooner or later! Oh and review, you know you want to.<p>

~Baxyratty


	3. Observation Without Direction

**A/N: The following is a collab between my demented brain, and Master of the Boot. We own absolutely nothing. As a special precaution I must warn you that one of the charters uses racial slurs in this chapter, neither I or Master of the Boot condone use of these words.**

Rain fell in heavy sheets across Gotham making it look even more dreary than usual. Police Commissioner Gordon always though the heavy rains of Gotham were God's way of trying to cleanse the city of sin, or perhaps drown the sinners. The GCPD had roped off an area near a canal; the only lights illuminating the area were the red and blue lights of the police cars.

A concerned pedestrian out for a jog had phoned in a report of a body washing up. By the time Gordon and the police had gotten there, they found not on but ten bodies ranging in age from five to seventy years of age. Without a second thought he ordered the area roped off, ordered a forensics team in and signaled the Batman. It looked like a serial killer was on the loose.

"Looks like someone's finally cleanin' up the homeless problem eh Commissioner?"

The voice belonged to none other than one time crooked cop and resident bungling detective Harvey Bullock. He took his place next to the Commissioner as he shoveled the last piece of a Boston Cream donut down his gullet.

"This isn't funny Bullock." Gordon snapped as he turned around, "10 people torn apart for no reason. Whoever did this was a sick bastard. I'm going to the car, I need my pipe."

And so he headed back to his car which he purposely had parked furthest away from the crime scene so that the Batman would be more likely to appear there. And he was right, no sooner had the commissioner retrieved his pipe and stocked it with tobacco than the Batman stepped from the shadows.

"What happened commissioner?" he spoke gruffly as was his nature every time he put on the bat-suit

Commissioner Gordon nearly jumped out of his skin. He had seen some pretty fucked-up shit that would make most men go mad and it didn't phase him, but somehow Batman's sudden appearances still scared the hell out of him..

"Batman!" he exclaimed as her wheeled around to face the vigilante, taking a few deep breaths to settle his nerves. "We found ten people dead in the canal here, drifters and homeless by the look ones that were intact."

Batman raised a brow underneath his mask

"Four of the victims, two teenagers, and a man and a woman in their thirties were torn apart, and it looks like their organs and a few of their limbs were…eaten."

Batman's other brow rose to join the first, "Croc?" he suggested

"I thought so too Batman, but I phoned Arkham and he's still locked up. And besides, this isn't entirely his MO either. These people had nothing; there would be nothing in it for him besides food,"

"I'll look into it." Batman said resolutely as he stepped back into the shadows and disappeared jut as quickly and silently as he had appeared.

"That's still damn creepy." Gordon said as he struck a match and lit his pipe.

* * *

><p><em>The Audio Log of Doctor Hugo Strange<em>

_October 15__th__, 2011 11:30 PM_

_It has been a hectic, stressful, and sleepless four days but my research on my…subject is finally complete. After sifting through the subjects ashy remains and examine his memories once more, I found something most intriguing. The subjects major muscle groups and glands were implanted with what appear to be microchips. On closer inspection I deduced that these devices were intended to boost the recipients strength, speed, agility and endurance and allow them to shrug off wounds that would leave a normal human dead or permanently crippled. In addition the chips seem to change the subject's physiology allowing him to survive off the proteins found in human blood alone. All and all these artificial vampires show amazing craftsmanship. Whoever was responsible for their creation was obviously someone who rivaled my intellect!_

_What intrigues me most was the chip I found embedded on its Medulla Oblongata, or rather where it was. Is is bigger than the rest of the chips and contained a large quantity of thermite. Unlike the rest of the chips it appears to be some sort of tracking and failsafe device. I believe that when these so called Last Battalion members were on missions they could have been tracked and destroyed by their leadership from a great distance away. _

_With this device in hand I may be able to reverse engineer the technology to track the two subjects I desire. If so I WILL find them and I WILL destroy Bruce Wayne, and I WILL become Batman! Aha..ahahaha….HAHAHAHAHAHAHA- GLURK! _

_CHOUGH!_

_CHOUGH!_

_COUGH!_

_HACK!_

_WHEEZE!_

_Addendum to my notes: In the future refrain from chewing gum while engaging in maniacal laughter, results are hazardous to my health_

* * *

><p>The moon was blotted out by the dark rainclouds which hung over Gotham spewing the acid rain that was so common in that hellhole of a city. But that was of no concern to the Captain as he took a stroll down some of the worst streets that Gotham had to offer. The rain would have irritated any normal human, but he was neither normal or human. Instead the thing bothering him was Schrödinger. It was nothing major, but he was starting to remember why he never let the boy sleep in his bed even when they were on leave. The cat-boy was just as hyperactive in his sleep as he was awake and often accidently threw punches, kicks, or teleported during his sleep. The amount of times that the Captain fell asleep with Schrödinger in a hotel before the war, only to wake up later in a completely different country, usually atop a monument of some kind, was beyond his ability to count.<p>

Luckily, the Captain's unique condition made it so that he only required around three hours of sleep a week in order to function correctly. And so most of his nights were spent like this, he would either take walks or read while Schrödinger slept. Tonight he had opted for a walk, and unbeknownst to him had wandered into an area of Gotham nicknamed "Crime Alley". Usually no one could walk thirty feet without being accosted by muggers or drug addicts, but at eight feet tall and carrying an almost permanent emotionless expression and statuesque body, the Captain might as well have been wearing a sign that said "don't fuck with me" in big bold letters.

The only thoughts in his head at the moment were about how to find a way to track down whoever or whatever HS was.

_Maybe Ich could convince Schrodi zu look fur ihm._ he thought but quickly pushed the thought from his mind, knowing the boy he would probably get bored and end up prostituting himself for pocket money to spend on trinkets. No, the most logical thing to do would be to disappear into the city until whatever was calling to them sought them out. And so this dilemma was solved for the time being. But as he turned around to head back to his "house" he came face to face with a blond woman in a skimpy red skirt and matching sequin top.

Nomi Malone use to be a Vegas show girl, but even though she became the star of the world's first and currently only topless ballet, she got tired of showing her tits off to horny patrons in a Vegas theater. Well that and sucking her boss's dick to keep her job. And so she stole her boss' car, skipped town and never looked back. She was heading for Manhattan and hoped to finally fulfill her dream of being an actual theater star, but one drug fueled bender, wrong turn, and wrecked car later she was stranded in Gotham City and turning tricks to make enough money to buy a cheep used car to get out of this hell hole.

After a couple weeks of fucking and blowing greasy gangsters and dirty old men seeing someone who was actually attractive wandering alone in crime alley seemed like a gift from God to her. And so fixing her top to show off as much of her ample bosom as possible while still remaining moderately decent, she approached the man while he was turning around.

"Hey there Army boy!" she purred seductively seeing the Captain's military style trench coat, "Looking for a good time? How about we go somewhere nice and private and you can show me your gun hmm?"

Nomi felt the Captain's icy blue eyes lock onto her face and then drift down to her tits, but instead of saying anything he simply cocked his head to the side like a curious dog.

"Aww come on baby don't be shy! It'll be worth every cent!"

And with that, Nomi turned and headed down an alley, walking as seductively as she could. The Captain took off his cap to sweep his platinum blond bangs back under his cap with the rest of his hair before replacing it on head. He shoved his hands into his pockets and was about to walk away and ignore the woman when he heard his stomach growl. Looks like he would have to follow her after all.

Nomi looked over her shoulder and smiled. She had enticed him after all. _I'm getting better at this! _she thought satisfied with herself. A few more johns and she'd be out of Gotham and on her way to Broadway. About halfway down the alley she turned and addressed her newest customer with a smile.

"Ok army boy here's the deal, twenty-five for an HJ, fifty for a BJ, seventy-five for half and half and a hundred for full service. So what'll it be?"

Again the Captain gave her a blank but intense stare and he quickly approached her quickly and silently. Once the woman was within arm's reach he caught the woman by the throat slowly lifted her off the ground. Nomi let at a muffled scream and gasped for air as she quickly reached into her skirt pocket and produced a can of mace.

"Fuck you asshole!" she choked out as he lifted the can to the Captain's face and pushed the button unleashing the contents into her attacker's eyes. To her horror, and partial amazement, her attack didn't drop her, or even flinch, instead his pupils dilated, and his irises changed from the dark blue they once were to the color of fresh blood. Before she could even blink she was smashed into a wall and dropped onto the ground.

As she looked on the Captain began to change. Quicker than humanly possible the Captain removed his hat, gloves and coat, and dropped them next to him on the ground. No sooner had he done this than his hair turned snow white, his finger's lengthened and became claws as white fur spread across his body. His mouth lengthened into a snout and his ears became pointed and wolf-like.

"Oh, my God!" Nomi stammered, "you're a…a.-"

"Werewolf? Ja he ist!" came a voice which sounded like it belonged to a child. Looking over Nomi beheld a boy who looked no older than twelve, with a crop of messy shoulder length golden hair, out of which poked two black-furred cat ears. To top off his bizarre appearance his eyes were rose colored and had cat-like pupils which seemed to glow red in low light, he was sitting with his legs crossed on a nearby dumpster and wearing a Hitler Youth uniform

"Run kid get the Cops!" Nomi screamed at the boy only to receive a malicious giggle in response as he disappeared into thin air and reappeared next to the werewolf nearly instantaneously.

"Und vhy vould I vant to deprive mein handsome Kapitan of his midnight snack?" the boy purred as the werewolf bent over to lick his cheek

"You-you two are monsters! Freaks!" Nomi stammered causing the cat-eared child to giggle.

"Ding ding ding!" he replied with possibly one of the most evil grins Nomi had ever remembered seeing, "You vin zhe guessing game! Hans show her what she's von!"

And so the unfortunate ex-showgirl's life ended as the werewolf lunged and tore out her throat with his razor sharp jaws.

Ten minutes later Hans Guensche, aka the Captain had finished his meal, returned to his human form, put the clothing he had removed back on, and was disposing of Nomi's remains in the nearby dumpster, Schrödinger was leaning up against one of the walls of the alley playing a solo game of catch with a breast implant that the Captain had ripped out during his feasting. The cat-boy was under the impression that it was some sort of new type of bouncy ball, and the captain didn't have the heart to tell him what it actually was.

"I'm bored," Schrödinger complained as he tossed the implant into the dumpster with the rest of Nomi Malone, "can ve go see ein film Hans?"

The Captain sighed mentally _Ve need money fur zhat und du spent zhe last of zhat on fish sandviches. _he thought in his lovers direction, causing the cat-boy's ears to twitch as he picked up the message.

"Ich can sneak us in du big zilly dumkopf!" he responded with a giggle "Und I vant to zee zhat new-" Schrödinger stopped mid sentence as his ears twitched yet again. A distant sound had caught his attention, Hans heard it as well, it sounded like an alarm. Shortly after the alarm went off it was joined by a chorus of police sirens. "Somezing fun ist happening mein Kapitan!" Schrödinger exclaimed as he rushed over and took his lover's hand "Let's go vatch!"

Before Hans could even think out a word he found himself teleported to the roof of an abandoned apartment complex across the street from the Gotham Pharmaceuticals plant. "Stay here Schatz! (1)" the boy chirped happily, "I vant a closer look, be right back!" and with that Schrödinger disappeared again, leaving the Captain by himself.

* * *

><p>"Oracle come in." the first thing which Bruce did upon leaving the crime scene and hopping into the Batmobile was to contact Oracle. He had to agree with the commissioner, Crock may be a cannibal but preying on people with nothing expensive for him to take wasn't like him. The more he thought about it, the more his suspicion that something new was in Gotham seemed to be correct.<p>

_This is Oracle. Go ahead Bruce._ The girl's voice came from his cars computer which also served as a means of communication while driving.

"Oracle I need you to get me some information on cannibalism"

_Croc on the loose again? _Oracle questioned

"No" replied Batman in a grave tone, "this isn't like him and just as a favor for me, cross check cannibalism with the destruction of London. I have a hunch."

_Right I'll see what I can dig up._ And with that Oracle clicked off her end of the commlink.

Once she did so, Batman turned and started to head back to the bat cave when his computer flashed ALARM: GOTHAM PHARMACEUTICALS Batman grunted, checking in with Alfred would have to wait, there was a heist to be stopped.

* * *

><p>Two corpses busted through a pair of double doors and landed unceremoniously in the middle of the room. They were once simple security guards, by with their heads turned a full 180 degrees around they were far beyond the help of anyone now. Through the now busted doors stepped a man that was nearly seven feet tall. He was dressed that would have reminded anyone who saw it of a cross between an urban commando and a Mexican wrestler. He was Bane and he was here to gather supplies. Although the device which he wore on his back recycled the powerful drug venom through his blood giving him an unlimited supply to fuel his super human strength, he had taken to fabricating the stuff to sell on the black market.<p>

He had watched the plant for weeks. If all went according to plan, he'd be in and out before the police could even respond to the alarm which was now blaring throughout the facility. And so with no time to waste he started clearing the shelves in one of the storage rooms of the plant. Anabolic steroids, painkillers, pharmaceuticals grade narcotics, he grabbed as much as he could carry and stuffed it all into a large sack he brought with him. The whole process took only five minutes. Satisfied with the amount of components he grabbed, he turned quickly to leave only to bump into a little blond boy with black cat ears.

"Should have known du vere a spic!" he began with a smile, "It's because of your people and zhe niggers zhat the crime rate in zhis fucking country is zo high!"

Bane growled, "Out of my way puta!" he barked as he shoved the boy aside with enough force to send him flying into the one of the shelves which broke and collapsed on the boy, killing him. Bane smiled, satisfied with his work and headed on his way out again, only to have the boy reappear in front of him again

"Aww did I hurt zhe giant shaved monkey's feelings?" the boy cooed, "I'm zorry, oh vait no I'm not!" Bane blinked, hadn't he just killed this little freak? How was he in front of him? This was definitely strange, but it wouldn't stop him for long. Without any ceremony he wrapped his hands around Schrodinger's head and squeezed until it popped like an over ripened tomato. Bane smiled a nearly rabid looking smile until the boy's voice came from behind him once more.

"You know, killing someone vhen they're talking to you is rude zu most people." the boy scoffed, causing Bane to turn to him slowly.

His brows rose under his mask as he beheld the boy standing there in one piece and without a scratch on hm. "How?"he inquired in amazement to which the boy replied with a mischievous giggle before speaking.

"I'm everyvhere und novhere zilly, nothing du can do vill truly hurt me!"

"We'll see about that!" Bane growled before letting out a howl of rage and hurling a punch with all his strength at the boy. This time, however, the boy disappeared just before contact was made, leaving bane swinging at nothing but air.

"Nyaa nyaa!" came the child's voice from behind once more, "Du missed me!"

Bane spun and tried to kick the boy across the room, but again hit nothing but air. Growling and nearly foaming at the mouth with rage, Bane struck out in every direction, in front, in back, to his left, to his right, but it was like fighting a hallucination, Schrödinger would disappear just before a blow was landed. Suddenly the boy appeared startling the venom pump on Bane's back, and quicker then the man could blink, the boy drew a Hitler Youth knife and slashed the tubes which continuously circulated the combat drug into Bane's body.

Bane screamed as his fuel was sapped and collapsed forward onto the ground as Schrödinger teleported in front of him with a impish smirk. "Du see!" he said in a very childish and snotty tone, "Du can't beat me du fillzy Untermench, none of your kind can!"

Before the boy could insult his opponent any further, the doors flew open and tear gas began to flood the room, Schrödinger spun on his heels, and catching sight of an approaching swat team, let out a very cat-like hiss before he teleported away, leaving Bane to the mercy of the police.

* * *

><p>The screech of burning rubber signaled the Batman's arrival as the Batmobile came to a halt just outside of the barricade that was set up by the police to keep the public a safe distance from the Gotham Pharmaceuticals building. Stepping out of his vehicle and hopping over the barricade Batman almost immediately caught sight of Commissioner Gordon and approached silently.<p>

"What's happened Commissioner?" he asked once he was within earshot, causing Commissioner Gordon to visibly flinch.

"Bane. He broke in for more venom components." He said as he began heading for a police van, "But, he's been taken care of. Look." At the Commissioner's behest Batman peered into the window on the back of the van. Sitting there, on one of the seats was a clearly broken and exhausted bane, hid muscles already returning to their normal size as the venom began to wear off.

"What happened to him?" Batman inquired after he examined Bane through the window of the van

"No idea." replied Gordon as he emptied the ash out if his pipe, "the SWAT team found him like that. We can't get a word out of him besides 'I'm going to wring that cat's neck."

"Are you taking him back to Arkham?"

"Of course," The commissioner said as he lit a fresh batch of tobacco in his pipe, "but if he's not talking to us he's definitely not…Batman?" It was too late he was already gone.

Across the street the Captain held Schrödinger's hand softly as the too of them watched the cops depart with their prisoner."That's vhat I vant!" Schrodinger exclaimed happily after the police vehicles disappeared from view

_Du vant to be in die Politzei _(2)_ now?_ The captian thaught, perking a brow in surprise.

"Oh nein, nein, Ich vant to have standoffs vith the police, make tons of money und live in ein mansion like Tony Montana! Ich vant zu be ein gangster!"

The Captain mulled in over in his head, and for once his demented little lover came up with an idea that wasn't half bad. Confrontations with law enforcement could help them keep their combat skills in top shape and more than likely would gain the attention of who or whatever HS was, and the prospect of money and retirement in a mansion, at least for a few decades sounded heavenly, but there was one problem.

_We're soldiers mein Katzchen..ve don't know anyzing about selling drugs or robbing banks or money laundering or anything. _the Captain thought in his lover's direction

Schrödinger's ears drooped "Oh…right." he said disheartened until he caught the Captain looking at him "vhat?"

_But ve can learn._

Schrödinger's eyes suddenly brightend As he teleported into his gigantic lover's arms and planted a kiss on his lips. "Zhat's the Hans I know und love! Let's get to looking fur ein teacher!" and with that the cat-eared child teleported himself and his werewolf lover away

* * *

><p>The TV news was showing home movies sent in from survivors to the London attracts for the fifth time in three hours. For the last two weeks that was all anyone wanted to hear about. It was as if all the other problems in the world just disappeared simply because a city got annihilated, and it was infuriating. Well no, to say the man watching the little portable TV which was smuggled into Arkham Asylum for him was infuriated would be a contender for understatement of the century. A better description would be that he was downright goddamn livid!<p>

Here he was working hard every single day to bring the joy of chaos to the teaming masses of the world, and he had been pushed to the wayside because a bunch of dusty old relics from World War II decided to blow up a city. This could not stand, no, this _would _not stand. It was high time for everyone to remember that no one upstages The Joker. He dashed the small portable TV on the floor of his cell and stomped on its sparking remains in an almost infantile rage. He would retake his rightful spot in the news, and he knew just how to do it.

Pulling a small cell phone, which was also smuggled in for him from the pocket of his coat, he dialed a number that only he knew and tapped his foot impatiently as until the phone was answered.

"Harley!" he screamed as soon as the call was answered

"Oh hi there mista J!" came the coy and playful voice of the onetime psychologist and Joker's partner in crime Harleen Quintzel, "Me and the boys just finished settin up! Blackgate's gonna go up in flames, just like ya wanted!"

"Never mind that!" Joker grumbled "I need you to round up some new guests for Arkham! Find me…Nazis."

"Nazis mista J? I don't think we have any of those."

"Shut it! Find me Nazis or anyone that even remotely reminds you of a Nazi and have them committed here before you torch Blackgate! Bats aren't going to be our only guest at our party!"

"Okie dokey mista J! Fresh Nazis comein up!"

With that the Joker hung up and his maniacal laughter could be heard throughout the lower levels of the asylum.

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne had just returned from Gotham Pharmaceuticals. He changed out of the Bat-Suit and into a casual suit and was about to see if a cup of coffee spiked with whiskey could take his mind off his troubles when Alfred intercepted him on his way to his living room.<p>

"Ah! master Bruce! Good that you're back! I managed to get you a conference with a representative from the Mossad via webcam. It starts in ten minutes!"

* * *

><p><strong>Well that's that for this chapter. Join us next time when Master of the Boot shows us what occurs in the meeting with the Mossad amongst other things! Aufwiedersehen mein freunds!<strong>

**Translations:**

**Schatz = sweety/lover/hun**

**Politzei = police**


	4. Tyger Tyger

**Disclaimer: We own nothing, you know the drill.**

**A/N: Hey all, Baxyratty here, letting you know that this Chapter was brought to you by the Master of the Boot amd reviewers like you! so review, even if it's constructive criticism. We enjoy hearing from our readers!**

_Wayne Manor_

Despite all things, Alfred Pennyworth's parents were still alive. At the ripe old age of ninety and eighty-five, Mr. and Mrs. Pennyworth showed no signs of slowing down. Unfortunately, there were some days that Alfred just wished that his parents would up and drop dead.

For one, Alfred's father did not approve of his son's profession.

Allred groaned as he listened to his father on the phone in Wayne Manor. "Dad, I'm not a maid, I'm a Butler."

A response was buzzed on the other side of the line and Alfred felt his migraine getting worse. "Dad, the difference is that one is a woman and the other is a man. I work managing the estate and schedule of one of the world's richest men; that includes his security and managing over a hundred other people to take care of this place."

"But you're still bloody acting like a homosexual in a suit, taking care of some rich boy."

Alfred just about had enough. His dad didn't have dementia but he was always repeating the mean stuff and never the nice things. "Dad, put mum on the phone."

"Hello, Alfie," came the creaky, kindly voice of Alfred's mummy.

"'Allo mum,"

"Alfie, are you taking your vitamins?"

Alfred groaned, but this time good naturedly. "Mum, I'm a grown man."

"But you're over sixty, take care of yourself."

Before the conversation could continue, Alfred felt his phone ring. Checking the caller ID, he knew that it was his friend from Mossad. "Sorry, mum, but I have to go."

Ignoring his mother's protest, Alfred opened the line on the cell phone and greeted his friend and contact within the Israeli secret service.

"Hello Olev," Alfred beamed as he walked towards the conference room.

"Good to see you too, Alfred," came a cultured and slightly German voice from the other end of the line.

_Downtown Gotham_

Downtown Gotham was a scary place. It was like New York City in the middle of November, in the middle of the night and with the corruption rate of Kabul and the crime rate of Baghdad during the worst of the wars.

Currently, a worn down and damaged bus was leaving the bus stop. The driver was protected by three inches of bulletproof glass and was carrying a shotgun; all paid for by Wayne Enterprises.

As the bus pulled away there were two figures sitting down on a bench. Normally, only the really scary, the really desperate and the really fucked up would be out here in this neighborhood at this time. However Schrodinger wasn't worried. As he was very nearly immortal he had nothing to worry about. He was even harder to kill than that fool Alucard.

Sitting next to Schrodinger was a man who was even stranger looking than a Nazi neko.

"So," said Schrodinger, "Me und meine homie are looking to join a gang. Know anybody?"

The man said nothing; he didn't even acknowledge Schrodinger's presence.

The cat boy's ears twitched as he looked up the man up and down. The gentlemen next to him appeared rather old; his hair was white and his trench coat was tattered and frayed.

Atop his head he wore a top hat of all things, with a row of polo mints glued around the band of the hat.

Schrodinger once more attempted to talk to the strange man that was huddled over an ornate wooden box. The man was green like the wicked witch of the West and for no discernible reason there was a giant polo mint taped over his right eye. "Maybe you're deaf, but I vant to join a gang und makes lots of money."

The Cat boy leaned back as he attempted putting on his best American accent, "So, who's got da powa." And his best wasn't very good.

The green skinned, white haired man with a polo mint fetish said nothing, did nothing.

From his hooked nose to his protruding chin, he looked like a fairy tale witch but did not say or do anything. The only sign that he was alive was the fact that he was breathing.

Schrodinger realized that maybe this wasn't the best guy to find out who the number one crime lord in the City was. Out of curiosity, he tapped the man on his dusty shoulder; nothing happened.

The white haired freaky man budged a little and put one hand on top of his box, as if he were afraid it being stolen. One more strange thing about the man was his thumb. It was gigantic, bigger than the whole rest of his hand.

Schrodinger swooped in, fascinated by the giant sized thumb. "That's a pretty big thumb," said the hyperactive cat boy.

The man's eyes flashed. "Do ya wanna know about me thumb, do ya boy?" he said in a jolly cockney accent.

Schrodinger's eyes widened as the man sprang to life. He pushed himself back as the man jammed his mega thumb into his face.

"Intrigue ya, does it boy, me thumb?" said the cockney.

"Uh . . ."

The man cut off Schrodinger. "Well boy, I hail from a long line of hitchhikers, and the thumb is an enormous boon to the Hitchhiker, as is well known to all."

Schrodinger tried to pull back but the Hitcher pulled him to listen to the story. The whole time, he stared at that massive thumb with awe.

The man put an arm around Schrodinger, pulling him in and for the first time in a very long time, actually making him feel uncomfortable. "And me, unfortunately, cursed by the Gods, was born with a tiny thumb, Not just Tiny," said the Hitcher, whose voice was rising in volume, "But a mere speck, disgusting; like a solitary corn puff."

Schrodinger just stared at the bizarre man, regretting asking about the damn thumb but also too intrigued; like a cockney train wreck.

"And so me own mother cast me out of the family unit for me tiny thumb. I think it was that, or it could have been that I was spending too much time with me sister's big syrup covered nipples and not enough bringing in me mum's cut of the prostitution money."

Schrodinger nodded his gaze now long and cold. "Ja . . . nice." What else could he say?

"Ah," the Hitcher crooned as he remembered his darkest days, "I spent three years living on the streets of London, anal raping small animals and eating black people." He pinched Schrodinger's cheek, "Really good," he said in a lusty voice.

Just as Schrodinger was about to teleport away, things got really weird and he was forced to listen.

"And then one day as I was playing with my hairy green banana at the workhouse after hours, I heard new of a man who could help me with my thumb and the case of the clap I got from me mum's green snatch." The Hitcher grumbled, "Dirty whore, she was, old mum."

"I heard of an immortal named Ra's Al Ghul, said to be eons old and possessed of ancient knowledge. I combed the universe for this man, searching wide and low; leaving London just as it was being taken over by wogs and poufs."

Schrodinger had done many amoral and kinky things in his day; but this guy's predilection towards female members of his family really was making him feel kinda ill.

"And so I finally found Ra's Al Ghul; he was in the men's room in a pub in Wales. He was completely cabbaged after doing a line of Charlie on the toilet seat."

Schrodinger tried to crawl away but the Hitcher just pulled him in tighter. There was something about the guy, something otherworldly. It was like some black voodoo was keeping Schrodinger stuck here and it was coming from the Hitcher's ornate box.

"I begged and I pleaded but soon he worked his black magic, taking me to his Lazarus pit, which was guarded by a band of gypsies."

The Hitcher was shouting now, "A miracle! After the madness of the Lazarus pit me thumb was enormous, like a fleshy maraca. And I asked Ra's how I could repay him."

"And he said 'five hundred pounds'

'Five 'undred pounds! You won't see penny one from me, you slag!"

The Hitcher huddled on himself as he recalled the terrible wrath of Ra's al Ghul. "Oh it was horrible. The cackers that he had guarding the pool sprang to life and started kicking me arse. They shoved a broomstick up me green arsehole and kicked me to a pulp. And the worst part was when Ra's summoned the spirit of the Harvest moon. And in the most horrible moment of me life, it declared I wasn't a cockney! Now I'm—hey! Where'd you go, you little Nazi chav!"

In his insane and rambling storytelling, the Hitcher had noticed that Schrodinger was gone.

Angrily, the green skinned cockney banged on the bench and vanished in a puff of Jazz music.

_Wayne Manor, Conference Room_

Bruce Wayne sat beside his loyal butler Alfred. Sitting on top of the conference table was a massive fifty inch state of the art plasma screen TV. Being broadcasted all over that screen was a balding man of roughly the same age as Alfred, in a grey suit.

"Thank you for speaking to me, Mr. Wayne," said the Mossad agent in an amicable German accent.

"No," said Bruce with his trademark goofy playboy voice, "The pleasure is all mine. It's not very often that I rub shoulders with the defense community and it's rather exciting."

Alfred's friend, Olev suddenly felt himself embarrassed at the sight of Bruce Wayne's plastic smile. Still, he maintained his professionalism and did what he'd been bribed to do. It would be thanks to Bruce Wayne that Olev could retire on a private island filled with naked women.

Olev straightened his tie. "Well, Mr. Wayne, I admit that when you asked to learn about the terrorist attack on London. More so, I'm surprised that your first thought was to turn to me."

Bruce smiled back. "Well, Mr. Kask, ever since a bunch of Nazis blew up London I've found myself getting a little worried about something like that in Gotham. I love my hometown and I own a lot of real estate here." Nobody would ever expect a superficial douchebag like this to be Batman.

Olev nodded. "Well thus far little is known about who or what attacked London. The British government is trying to hush up the situation but the destruction of a world capital is not something that can just be covered up. The mass media of the internet have seen to that and the more the British government denies the more their credibility fails."

"Grace me with a theory, it should be exciting," said Bruce, though excitement was far from what he felt at the discussion of the slaughter of London.

Olev sighed, "Well, if you insist, Mr. Wayne."

The man then began to pull up documents from the laptop before him, which were then promptly displayed on Bruce Wayne's giant monitor. "During the closing years of the second world war, a number of prominent Nazis fled to South America, as many regimes there were pro-fascist and pro-Nazi."

Bruce said nothing as the screen shifted to show documents which had the stamp of the Soviet Union Politburo on it.

"As the war ended, the Soviet Union was far more dedicated to ending the Nazi menace than the Allied powers were. The Soviets executed thousands of Nazi war criminals while the Americans only executed a few hundred. Not surprising, given that at the start of the war the Allies feared the Soviet Union more than the Nazis."

Bruce pretended to look fascinated, but most of this was well known to him, as during his younger years he'd learned interrogation techniques from former KGB agents in the Eastern Bloc.

"However, in 1949, Mossad was approached by a special task force from the Soviet intelligence community. They were interested in a joint effort specifically to hunt down Nazis escaping to South America; at least that was what they told us in the first place."

More documents appeared on the screen and were instantly transferred to Bruce's private computer in the batcave.

"The leader of the KGB taskforce was none other than the disgraced Marshal Zhukov. He led the spies under his command like he led his armies; totally uncaring for losses incurred on his side and hell-bent on defeating his foes."

The next set of documents that came up on the screen had the stamp of the Vatican Holy See on them, as well as an ornate crest with the Roman numeral XIII on it.

"For two years the joint Mossad-KGB operation yielded nothing until the Soviet Union began to get a ring of spies inside the Vatican and the Vatican's own black ops organization, known as Iscariot."

"Judas Iscariot?" Blurted Bruce

"The very same," explained Olev, "The Catholic Church has been attempting to influence foreign affairs since the fifteenth century and before. The Iscariots are fanatics." His tone of voice turned dark, "They believe themselves like the betrayer Judas, betraying their god to bring about the end of sin. They also wish for all the Jews in the world to return to Israel so that Armageddon may begin and all the Jews may be burned in everlasting fire."

Bruce had to choke back bile at hearing this, at knowing that such a group of people was allowed to exist in the world.

Olev suddenly chuckled. "Well, their God was on vacation in those years since we more or less penetrated the Iscariots with ease and stole many valuable documents. We learned through the Vatican that while many war criminals escaped with stolen war loot, there was in fact a larger effort to bring materials and manpower into some safe haven in South America. This wasn't merely rats escaping a sinking ship; it was a veritable Nazi seed, trying to find a safe place to grow in the chaotic capitalism of Brazil and other regions."

Olev was about to tell Bruce more when he had to interrupt. "Are you still carrying on the revolution, Alfred?"

To this, Alfred smiled and held up a sleeve which had a Che Guevara cufflink on it. "Oh yes, I'm still a member of the Labor Party. Workers of the world unite."

A look of supreme confusion crossed Bruce's face as both Alfred and Olev started to sing _La Internatinale_ in French. This was stupefying that he'd fail to notice his butler was a red. "You never said you were a socialist, Alfred," Bruce almost sounded hurt.

Alfred shrugged as he and his old friend stopped singing the workers anthem. "You never asked, Master Wayne. Anyway, you were saying, Olev?"

Olev straightened up, snapping out of his socialist reverie. "As I was saying, Mr. Wayne. Once we'd stolen the files from the Vatican, our work greatly sped up. The Mossad-KGB task force found and executed hundreds of Nazis and Nazi collaborators, often torturing them first."

"We began to receive rumors, nothing substantial; about a secret base being constructed in the jungle and talk of ways to resurrect the dead and immortal soldiers. We knew that something big was happening."

Olev pressed more buttons on his laptop and documents filled the screen as sadness filled his voice. "The most disappointing part was how widespread this level of support was for this secret Nazi organization. Many higher ups in the CIA and the American business community assisted these Nazis, as did many elements in NATO. THIs hidden Nazi group, codenamed the Last Battalion or Leztes Battalion promised many things to a lot of people. They promised the end of communism in the world, suppression of labor movements and even immortality of all things; and it seemed like we and our KGB cohorts were the only force in the world that had any serious interest in stopping them."

Olev leaned back, struggling to hold back his embarrassment. "This went on for years. During the mid-nineteen sixties we were very close to discovering the heart of the Nazis. And just as we were about to rip that heart out, the newly minted Premier Khrushchev ended the partnership with Mossad, declaring us enemies of the people and dissolving the task force. Not long after, our own government ordered us to cease all further investigations into this organization. It didn't take long for all our leads to grow cold. We just forgot about the Last Battalion until the recent attack on London."

Olev leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "I'm sending you the last of the relevant files, Mr. Wayne. If nothing else I hope that it provides you with peace of mind, for it has brought none to me. Even now, good men do nothing until it is too late."

For a moment, Bruce dropped his playboy act and looked the Mossad operative in the eye, "Thank you, Olev, for everything."

When the conference was over, Bruce turned to Alfred. References to immortality, a hidden Nazi group, vampires in London and a cannibal in Gotham; none of it was impossible, only improbable.

Bruce turned to his butler; he was in full Batman mode now. "Alfred, I need equipment to help me fight vampires."

The silence was deafening.

Finally Alfred spoke, "Of course Master Wayne, I have Abraham Van Helsing and Peter Cushing's phone numbers in my directory."

"Don't be a smartass," Bruce scowled, looking very much like a man-child.

Alfred however couldn't hold it in, "Master Wayne, I had a hard enough time coming to grips with your plan to dress like a flying rodent and beat criminals into a pulp, but this is crossing a line into madness."

"Alfred, if you help me fight vampires then I will go with you to movie night hosted by that _Friends of Cuba_ organization you're a part of."

Alfred nodded, "Alright, Master Wayne, but if it really is a vampire I will stake you if you're bitten. I still remember the mess you made when I had to dig Killer Croc's teeth out of your leg."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Let's just get going, Alfred."

_Hugo Strange's audio log_

_Day forty one of my experiment. So far I have made progress. Using transients and homeless people as test subjects, I have managed to test my first batch of the so called FREAK, chips. Though so far I have no idea what FREAK stands for. _

_The subjects died violently as cancer like growths metastasized through ought their bodies. After a time, they seemed to transform into mindless cannibalistic creatures with no higher thinking. I dare say they have become literal zombies. _

_To my surprise after seventy two hours the subjects simply melt as their cellular structure breaks completely down. The necrosis starts with skin and works through the muscles and internal organs. Cells completely implode as the body's fluids become isotonic _

_This is frustrating, as I am trying to reengineer a human killing machine from a few microchips and ashes. _

_Spectrographic analysis of the ashes has proven fruitful in revealing—_

_RING-RING! _

_Damn phone. _

_(Grumbling)_

_Hello, Professor Hugo Strange speaking. How Might I help you?_

_(Other person on phone)_

_Anne Rice? As in the author?_

_(Anne rice on Phone)_

_Erm . . . yes, I did as a matter of fact purchase an authentic vampire off of e-bay. _

_(Anne Rice)_

_Yes, I bought it at great cost, outbidding a number of rabid Twilight fans as well as outbidding a highly unpleasant person calling themselves Alucard. _

_(Anne Rice) _

_. . . Pardon me? You are suing me? For what, may I ask?_

_(Anne Rice raises her voice)_

_But I have performed no infringement of your work. I merely bought an undead on the free market. _

_(Anne Rice yells louder on the phone)_

_Be reasonable Mrs. Rice. Your books are widely acclaimed but you do not own vampires in general. _

_(Anne starts to lose it_

_But—_

_(Anne goes apeshit on Hugo)_

_Surely—_

_(Ann calls Hugo an Asshole)_

_Alright Mrs. Rice, if it is a fight you want then a fight you'll get. Oh, and by the way, your books are awful. Even Stephanie Meyer is laughing at your useless purple prose. _

_(Anne says something awfully explicit)_

_Yes, you stupid bitch! I said it. You're no better than the Mormon hack in Arizona. _

_(Hugo hangs up phone) (Sighs)_

_Note to self: when purchasing an artificial vampire online erase all paper trails. I must do this quickly. _

_Well, future legal battles aside there is a bit of good news before me. Spectrographic analysis of the ashes has indicated the presence of several rare mutagens including rare Alkylating chemicals and variations of superoxides. Similar in chemical composition to the so called VENOM steroid used by the super criminal Bane. _

_I believe I know both the next step in my research and my next test subject. _

_The vampire I purchased on eBay was originally the captive of a French hunter named Gaston; who was on vacation in London at the time of the attack. Gaston's fighting skills are superb, given the fact that he caught and subdued an artificial vampire after drinking no less than nine beers. _

_I think I shall call Gaston, and offer him a job. _

_Then I will ruin his life to perpetuate my plans. _

_So in conclusion:_

_Step 1: Brainwash Anne Rice_

_Step2: Wash my car_

_Step 3: Capture the last survivors of the London Attack_

_Step 4: kill batman_

_Step 5: be batman. _

Schrodinger had heard of Scarface. All day he'd heard nothing but good things about the guy. He was rumored to be ruthless and bloodthirsty. Some even went so far as to say that he was even more ruthless than the Joker. That just made Schrodinger smile with excitement.

To survive in Gotham's underworld you had to be brutal. To thrive in this kind of environment you had to be absolutely psychotic. Hence, Schro and his lover the Captain would be perfect.

Schrodinger materialized in front of Scarface's Night Club, a dingy shithole called _The Painted Lady_.

The catboy teleported in front of an armed guard wearing an overly expensive and ugly suit. The guard, who looked like a shaven gorilla just grunted at the cat boy. He'd been warned in advance about their strange new guest.

"Howdy, stranger," said Schrodinger, attempting to sound more like a local but failing.

The guard grunted.

"I'm here to see Scarface und Ventriloquist," the boy flashed a smile, "Ve met on Facebook."

The guard grunted in a slightly lower pitch.

Schrodinger was getting a little discouraged by the guy's seeming lack of grasp on language in general. "I messed vith the Penguin?"

_Two days ago_

_After a hard day of sleeping with dirty whores, eating raw fish and running a criminal empire there was nothing more beloved by Oswald Cobblepot than a good pizza with a ton of pepperoni and anchovies_

_Unfortunately for the rotund, monocle wearing man there was a boy in Hitler youth outfit eating his believed anchovies pizza. _

_Oswald raised his Umbrella gun and shouted at Schrodinger. "That's my pizza, ya fat cunt!" _

_The catboy gave a rather realistic cat hiss and then swore at Oswald, "Fuck you!"_

_The little cat boy pulled out a derringer out of his pocket just as the Penguin blew his head off. _

_Oswald smirked but ducked when the Catboy popped back to life and shot at him with intent to kill. _

_Schrodinger hissed and fired his gun at Oswald, while Oswald took cover behind a bulletproof chair (only the best for Mr. Cobblepot.) _

_In the ensuing shootout, a stray bullet from Cobblepot destroyed Schrodinger's gun and the boy promptly vanished. _

_The Penguin laughed, "Serves you right." _

_Unbeknownst to Oswald, Schrodinger had filched a grenade from the weapons magazine and used it to blow a hole in the ceiling. Oswald watched in horror as the roof blew open and it started to rain on his pizza. _

_Cobblepot dropped his umbrella and began to weep as steam rose up from the sodden pizza. _

_Schrodinger laughed. _

Schrodinger really didn't know anyone in organized crime, but Scarface had been impressed by the humiliation of Penguin and had arranged a job interview over Facebook.

The cat boy walked past rows and rows of gangsters, each one wearing a progressively more horrible suit than the last and each one meaner than the one before him. Assorted whores, hookers and call girls lolled about, attending to the men's needs as required. Cigarettes and alcohol flowed with such freedom that Schrodinger could almost swear he was back in the nineteen fifties.

Until at last, the grunting man led him to the inner sanctum of the shitty night club, Scarface's office; and his suckass lackey, Ventriloquist.

Hans had agreed not to reveal himself. Neither he nor Schrodinger had any wish to lead this criminal cabal; least of all the Captain who saw such humans as little more than leeches and ticks. And Schro was the one who wanted all the material goods.

Confidently, the cat boy stepped forward to start a career he could really enjoy and under a leader he could respect; not like that fat fuck the Major. For all his raging orgasm about war, the man wouldn't know it from diet and hard exercise. That fat bitch had never even seen combat.

As Schrodinger walked into the room, he saw the meanest bunch of gangsters yet. These were Scarface's personal bodyguards; Rottweiler's in human form, recruited from the most hardened of criminals. To be part of the guard, you had to pair up with another guard and fight to the death for the job. Serious business.

Standing at the center of the guards was a small, slightly fat middle aged guy. This was the ventriloquist, Arnold Wesker.

Then Schrodinger saw the puppet on Ventriloquist's hand. It was a freaky little thing, carved of wood and made to resemble a stereotypical 1930's gangster. With its leering, hateful grin and worn appearance, the puppet just looked like it was going to come to life and strangle a baby. Schrodinger had the funniest feeling that the damn wooden thing was watching him.

He didn't know what to say, he was confused. "Uh, vhere's Scarface?' Schrodinger asked.

"You fucking blind?" snarled the puppet in an Edgar G. Robinson voice, "I'm right here, ya goofy cunt."

Schrodinger turned to the guards around him and pointed at the puppet with evil eyes. "Vait, that's Scarface?" He couldn't believe this shit, "You guys vork for Pinocchio!"

To Schrodinger's surprise, the puppet reached forward and grabbed him by the Adams apple with one in its pincer like wooden hands. "You's didn't tell me you had a death wish, kitty cat," the Puppet jeered. Schrodinger knew he couldn't die but that fucking puppet was giving him the willies. "I oughta make a fucking tennis racket outta yous."

Schrodinger hissed in anger. No wooden cocksucker was going to mess with him.

At that moment, the Ventriloquist piped up. "Mr. Scarface," he began in a reedy voice unlike that of his hateful proxy, "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by what he said."

The Dummy's head turned. The control mechanism inside must have been very complex to move the arms and head with just one hand. "When I want your opinion, dummy, I'll beat it outta ya."

The puppet (Scarface, not Ventriloquist) turned to Schrodinger and let go with its little wooden hand. "So kitty, you wanna work with me; well whoop-de-fucking-do. Why should I hire a little furball like you?"

Schrodinger smirked. He had been waiting for this part. It was the Captain's idea. "Vell, for starters . . ." he trailed off as he vanished from sight and teleported back with an explosive device, "I've got a bomb und du have shit."

The Captain had built the bomb, made from plastic explosive and an old alarm clock. The parts were remarkably easy to find, even the supposedly illegal explosive C4.

In a heartbeat, every gun in the room was aimed at Schrodinger's head. The digital clock was counting down. Less than a minute to go.

But Scarface just laughed, even as his human operator (slave?) trembled and sweated.

The puppet laughed and laughed. Schrodinger smiled. At last, somebody who could understand him. Thirty seconds to go.

With every laugh, the puppet's off-white teeth clicked together in a way that raised most men's hackles. "You got guts, kid. I give ya that," Scarface stopped laughing. "You wanna work for me, I got two rules. One: you obey me like I'm Jesus H. Christ. Rule Two: there is no rule two. So, either get in line or set that firecracker now and quit wasting my time."

Ten seconds left.

Schrodinger smiled and pulled out two wires from the device. The countdown was finished. Casually he threw the bomb over his shoulder and smiled, "Alright, vhat's my starting pay?"

"I'll give ya a hundred bucks to ring the Penguin's doorbell and run. I fucking hate that bastard. After that, we'll talk."

Schrodinger did a fist pump, "JA!" he cheered.

* * *

><p>"Ha, no one kills niggers like Gaston," boasted a booming, arrogant voice.<p>

Hugo strange nodded politely and smiled, "Indeed, Gaston, I'm sure that man was going to commit a crime."

The handsome, muscular Frenchman offered a winning smile at Hugo. "Well Professor, when you called me to offer me a job, who was I to turn you down."

Hugo smiled. Though Gaston's racism offended him, everything was going to plan. Besides, science had disproven race decades ago. "Won't you have some wine, Gaston?"

Gaston grinned, "_Merci, professor_." The buff Frenchman pretty much shattered every stereotype held by Americans about the French. With style and sophistication that only the class bully could have, Gaston poured himself a glass of fine Australian wine. It was his favorite; Hugo learned of it through complex psychographic models.

Gaston began to speak, loving the sound of his own voice. "So Professor, last time you paid rather lavishly and this time you paid for my hotel and plane ticket. May I ask what work you're offering?"

Hugo started to tell lies as he walked to the back of his dark office, counting on Gaston to focus on his wine. "Well Gaston, to be honest I have some jobs that would benefit greatly from your experience as a hunter and soldier."

Gaston smirked as he sipped his wine, turning around to face Hugo. "Well, I do bring results, you can't argue that."

Hug grinned, one hand hidden behind his back. "That is good, Gaston. The work I offer you is highly delicate; with a zero margin of error."

Gaston laughed, "Well, the harder the better. There's nothing I can't—

The man gasped as Hugo drove a syringe into his muscular neck and depressed the plunger. "No more talking, please," Hugo almost purred.

The racist French hunter gasped and dropped his wine glass; even now Hugo's magic cocktail of drugs was taking effect.

"Don't talk, Gaston. Because right now you are nowhere near good enough to do the job I need."

Gaston fell to his knees, his mind full of fog. He knew that Hugo Strange has just insulted him, but oddly he didn't really care. In fact, he was starting to feel very peaceful and with each passing second he wanted to fight it less.

A glaring, soft light filled up Hugo's dark office and the soon to be science experiment looked up. In front of him were a dozen TV screens that he was sure weren't there before.

On each TV screen, patters and subliminal messages flashed; designed to break down Gaston's sense of self.

The patterns would have given a normal man a seizure or caused temporary blindness. Yet Gaston's pupils remained wide and open to all of the sights; his blinking reflex was similarly absent.

On the TV screens, a silhouette of Hugo's face appeared; formed from the flashes and sparks that seemed to drift at random into existence.

_Tyger, tiger! Burning Bright_

_In the forest of the night_

_What immortal hand or eye_

_Could frame thy fearful symmetry_

The floor, windows and world dissolved and soon the boorish Frenchman found himself in the eye of a storm of thought and light.

Hugo's voice was there. It was always there, the fallen angel seeking to return to paradise.

_Tyger, tiger, always right_

_And what shoulder, & what art. _

_Could twist the sinews of thy heart?_

In reality, Gaston now lay on Hugo's operating table; his eyelids surgically removed and several plugs drilled into his skull to feed information direction into his frontal lobes. Overhead, a concentrated optic device fed visual imagery into Gaston's permanently open eyes.

Hugo rolled into the operating theater, fully sterile, scalpels ready to go and the first of the experimental TYGER chips ready go.

His eyes flashed in the dim light of the operating theater, taking the mien of glowing, lifeless orbs and his too white teeth practically glowed. His white surgical gloves seemed disembodies, floating in the shadows with glinting surgical tools

No fallen angel was this, but a devil outcast. He sought not to return to paradise but to rule hell; and in Gotham city, Batman was the lord of hell.

_What the hammer? what the chain? _

_In what furnace was thy brain? _

_What the anvil? what dread grasp _

_Dare its deadly terrors clasp? _

_When the stars threw down their spears, _

_And watered heaven with their tears, _

_Did he smile his work to see? _

_Did he who made the Lamb make thee? _

_Tyger! Tyger! burning bright _

_In the forests of the night, _

_What immortal hand or eye _

_Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?_


	5. To Find What Was Lost

**Disclaimer: **The following is a collab between myself and the Master of the Boot. We own absolutely nothing and seek to make no profit.

Peaceful. For the first time in over a century the Captain felt at peace. He had a book to read, no orders to follow, and most importantly no Schrödinger to bug him. It wasn't that he didn't love his little cat-boy, he did, it was just that even after seventy-nine years of existence, the boy still hadn't mastered the concept of quiet time. He was always telling stories, or rambling incoherently or begging for sex, and the Captain had come to the conclusion that the neko loved the sound of his own voice.

On the bright side, ever since they had killed the Major and Dok, Schrödinger had seemingly become more independent. Although the boy was always chipper and outgoing in front of the battalion, in private he was morose and lethargic, as if he were just walking through a dream. More often than not, the day began with the Captain or Rip van Winkle being dispatched to literally drag the youth from his bed, force him to bathe (or if necessary bathe him by force), force him to don his uniform, and literally drag him to breakfast and the morning meeting.

However, since coming to Gotham all that changed. Schrödinger now seemed more than happy to get up each day, take his own hygiene into account, and actually went out to find work on his own initiative, which the Captain mentally thanked the old gods for every day. In fact, come to think of it, the only thing Hans had actually done for his cat-eared mate over the past month was give him advice on how to deal with Scarface and construct the bomb the boy used to seal the deal hopefully.

Schrödinger had been gone for two hours, giving Hans two blissful hours of peace and quiet, with which to continue his copy of _War and Peace_. It was during this time, that he realized why most of the people who began the novel never finished it. So far the main plot seemed to revolve around a group of Russian aristocrats who seemed to do little else but whine about how bad Napoleon was. Being someone who actually met napoleon in the early 19th century while fighting for Prussia, and then with him after Prussia was conquered, he found Dostoyevsky's interpretation of "The Little Corsican" to be somewhat demeaning. In Hans' experience the most devilish thing about him was that he was an overzealous French patriot.

To Hans, Dostoyevsky's portrayal of Napoleon as some sort of pseudo-demonic tyrant was unwarranted, he was simply one of the few generals in history to realize that in order to win a war, certain unpleasant decisions had to be made. But far more insulting, was the fact that he, Hans Gunsche, had single handedly slaughtered three hundred Russian soldiers during the Grand Armee's assault on Moscow, and Dostoyevsky had not even grazed the subject. Hans mentally sighed, it seemed no matter how often he honored his gods and long dead pack in battle, history was not meant to remember him.

Brushing the thought aside, Hans had just reached the point in his novel where the character Pierre had lost faith in his adopted ideals for the third time, when Schrodinger materialized straddling his lap.

"Ve're in!" the nearly Aryan looking Neko child chirped happily, "Or at least Ich am! Your plan vorked Hans! All I have to do ist prank zhe Penguin und Ich get a hundred dollars und a job!"

The Captain sent his book aside, _Shouldn't du be pranking him zhen?_

As always Schrodinger's ears twitched as he read his Werewolf companions thoughts, "Ja Ja, but Scarface can vait. He's just a vooden doll."

The Captain perked a brow, _A vooden doll?_

"Ja, like zhoes dummies bad comedians use."

_You vork for Pinocchio?_

"Zhat's vhat I said!" Schrödinger replied with a giggle and a playful mew and he leaned in to nuzzle his lover's cheek, "Can Ich get ein bischen (1) incentive to do mein job?" he purred seductively.

In response the Captain allowed himself a small smirk before gently caressing Schrödinger's cheek and then gently gripping the Neko's chin and pilling the boy into a deep kiss, snaking his tongue into his lover's sweet tasting mouth and caressing the boy's sandpapery tongue with his own. When he pulled back Schrödinger's cheeks were flushed and his mesmerizing, rose colored eyes were clouded over with lust. Quicker that the Captain could blink; Schrodinger had begun to unbutton his Hitler Youth uniform. Again the Captain raised his brow.

_Vhat in zhe hoelle are you doing?_

"Ich weiss (2) what zhat kiss means, und I'm getting ready!" the neko purred a healthy dose of excitement behind his words.

Hans mentally kicked himself for not thinking of a better way to get Schrödinger encouraged, he knew a kiss like that would send the boy's mind into the gutter. With a soft sigh Hans ruffled his lover's hair.

_Not tonight Schrodi, but if du come back von your vork mit ein Job, Ich vill reward du._

Schrödinger's expression turned from one of lust to one of shock and hurt, "A-aber (3), we haven't had-"

_Not tonight, du have ein job to do. _Interrupted the werewolf mentally as he followed his words with a stern glare

"J-ja, Ich should go," the cat boy said softly, trying to force a confident smirk, even though his drooping ears conveyed a distinct amount of either hurt or disappointment, "Don't vant zu keep Pinocchio vaiting do Ich?" And with that he teleported away, and Hans was left alone one more,

The elder werewolf shook his head and removed himself from the being, and grabbed his greatcoat and cap from a nearby pile. As he dressed in his uniform he kicked himself for being too harsh with the Neko, but the boy needed to learn patience, and he need time.

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to the Captain, in a nearby back alley the rare silence in downtown Gotham was broken by the sound of shattering bone as Batman's fist connected with the jaw of a mugger, and shattered it. The man dropped like a bag of hammers and began to snore, as he was forced into an unconscious state. Batman pulled the purse from the man's shoulder and returned it to the little old lady huddled in the corner of the alley.<p>

"Here you are mam, your purse." Batman spoke roughly, but with a sincere smile, to comfort the elderly woman who was shivering with fear. She reached up and with shaking hands took back her purse

"Thank you young man," she began as she stood up slowly and fished through he belongs until she found what he was looking for. Producing a butterscotch candy from her purse, she handed it to the Caped Crusader before hobbling of to continue on her journey to wherever it was she was going.

With no other option, the Batman shrugged to himself and undid the candy wrapper and popped the candy into his mouth, before dragging the still unconscious mugger over to the Batmobile, restraining him, and then placing him in the passenger seat.

A few moments later, he was off, the Batmobile racing down the streets of Gotham toward Gotham's main police station, to deliver his unconscious cargo. He was just beginning to think of where he would patrol next when the combine in the vehicle clacked on unexpectedly.

_Batman? _It was Barbara, and for the first time in a while she sounded genuinely afraid.

"Go ahead Oracle." Batman replied, "Is something wrong?"

_Uh...well, i looked into the London attacks and..I...we need to meet. mind if I drop by later, and get Dick to come as well? He needs to hear this as well._

"Oracle, there's no need to get him involved, if this is about what I think it is, I'll handle it."

At this point, Oracle became nearly frantic. _Bruce!_she screamed causing Batman to flinch and glance over at his passenger and was relieved to see that he was still unconscious. His secret identity was still safe. _You're going to need all the help you can get if what I found is remotely true. Just..just trust me on this, and get back to the Batcave ASAP I'll meet you there._

Batman griped the steering wheel, and just managed to swerve around some jackass in a dark trench coat, who had decided to cross the street without looking. Something told him this was going to be a bad month.

* * *

><p>As the Batmobile was racing toward the GCPD, across town an altogether different kind of car pulled up to a ramshackle townhouse in a rather bad neighborhood. The car had once been of an expensive make, but after a decade or so of use in organized crime it was pockmarked with bullet holes, and missing it's bumper. In the back sat Scarface in the lap of his lackey Arnold Wesker. Next them sat Schrödinger who was staring out of the window, trying to avoid staring at the two large bodyguards in the driver and passenger seat.<p>

"Alright kitty, remember what I told ya?" Scarface piped up in his somewhat stereotypical 1930's gangster voice.

"Ja, run up zhere, ring the doorbell und come back." Schrodinger responded with a twinge of boredom before he flickered for the briefest of moments. To Arnold Wesker, the cat eared boy seemed to disappear and reappear in a split second, like a channel being changed on an old TV. Regardless, the occupants of the car could hear the doorbell ring, however, no one save the boy seemed to know what had just happened.

This was the third time the cat-boy had disappeared and reappeared. If he wasn't so convinced that science fiction was bullshit, Wesker would have sworn the boy had teleported. "What the fuck kid? How-" Scarface began only to be interrupted

"I'm everyvhere und novhere, that's how."

"Are you back talking me you little prick?" Scarface growled back.

At this point the neko boy backed up in his seat, "No Herr Scarface. Ich vasn't back talking, honest!"

"'That's what I thought."

Before the conversation could progress any further, the door to the run down town house opened, and the Penguin appeared in a bathrobe and nightcap.

Poor Oswald Cobblepot knew he had been had from the moment he opened the door and saw that no one was on his yard, but it was too dark to see anything beyond his steps. "You goddamn kids! Don't you know what time it is?" he squawked, sounding very much like the bird that was his moniker's namesake, "Don't you know who I am! I WILL END YOU! END YOU!" And with that he slammed the door shut, despite the chorus of obstinacies echoing from nearby houses

Inside the car, Scarface was nearly laughing, his head off, literally. If he kept it up, Schrödinger was pretty sure the head would fall off of the stupid puppet.

"I gotta hand it to ya kitty, Don't know how ya did it, but you did! welcome to my little family! Let's go back to the club and we'll talk about yer first job."

Schrodinger, however, seemed to be oblivious to what he had just bent told. "Haben Sie eine Handi?" he asked out of the blue.

"Ex-excuse me?" asked the ventriloquist timidly. He never bothered to learn any foreign language, and so he had no idea what the hell the Neko had just said.

"Haben Sie eine Handi?" he repeated, looking rather irritated at the language barrier between himself and hid new bosses. Scarface, however, took a more brash approach

"English, motherfucker! Do you speak it!" he barked, causing Schrödinger to try to back up in his seat once again to no avail. Schrödinger Hitler, his father's pride and joy (until 1943 when the millennium project was initially destroyed) had killed, raped, blackmailed and helped commit genocide without flinching, but the freaky wooden doll gave him the creeps, and he fucking hated it.

"Vhat is zhe vord...Cell Phone! Do you have ein Cell phone?" he asked somewhat timidly.

Before Scarface could ask for, or far more likely, demand a cell phone from his henchmen, one was quickly handed over to the cat boy. For his part, Schrödinger quickly dialed 911 and cleared his throat and waited until the line was answered.

"Hello, is this 911?" he croaked, sounding amazingly like the penguin, "This is the Penguin. In two hours I will assassinate the Mayor of Gotham. I'm at 426 Wayne Boulevard! Come and stop me if you can you incompetent cunts!" With that the neko disconnected the call and tossed the cell phone out the window.

"Und zhat, Herr Scarface, ist how du prank somevone!"

As the beat up car sped away from the Penguin's hideout, Scarface's creepy laughter echoed out of the vehicle, along with the sound of a henchman lamenting the loss of a cell phone.

* * *

><p>If someone had told Batman that one day he'd be sitting in the Bat Cave with Oracle and Nightwing discussing the possibility of vampire Nazis in Gotham, he probably would have taken them to Arkham for a psychological evaluation. But what had occurred in London, the web conference with Olev, and the recent string of murders in Gotham, had convinced him that more evil than he ever dreamed possible existed in the world.<p>

"I looked into the London attacks like you requested...and...how do I put this, three of the terrorists are missing."

"So?" Nightwing questioned. "With London still under quarantine they're probably still stuck in the city."

"That's what I thought at first but, then i found something while doing some private shopping on EBay."

"A new sweater?" Nightwing teased.

"Someone sold one of the terrorists as a "genuine vampire" to someone in Gotham."

As Nightwing was about to open his mouth to call bullshit Bruce interjected.

"Who's the buyer?"

"The account was deleted before I could get to it "

Batman sighed, this wasn't good. more than likely Someone was obviously trying to cover their tracks, which meant that they were probably going to use their purchase as a weapon.

"Dick, can you track down Freeze and Strange? They're the only ones i know who would want something like that."

"Got it Bruce," Dick replied, "but don't you think this is, I don't know, unnecessary? I mean everyone knows vampires are just legends. The people who survived the London attacks probably just came up with the vampire theory to cope with what happened."

"Again," Oracle interjected, "I thought so too but then I found these."

She pushed two file folders across the table so Bruce and Dick could review them. The smallest one was about thirty pages and capped off with the picture of a young boy with cat ears. The other was twice the size of the first and contained a photo of a giant of a man in a greatcoat.

"Gentleman, meet SS Captain Hans Guensche, and Junior Warrant Officer Schrödinger, the other missing members of the group that attacked London. If either of them are in Gotham, they could upset the balance of power in the underworld."

"And if they both are?" Bruce inquired.

"Then you better get everyone you care about out of the city Bruce. Because knowing the black market in Gotham, we're looking at another London attack."

The next half hour was spent in silence as Barbara recounted what little she could uncover on the Millennium group; all of which Bruce knew thanks to his conference with Olev, but Dick needed to know everything he could if he was to be of any help with the missing Millennium members.

As soon as Barbara was done relaying her information, Dick suddenly spoke up.

"I've seen the Captain before," he commented, "I still think it's bullshit, but I've seen this guy wandering around Crime Alley twice in the last month. He doesn't seem to hurt anybody, he just walks around."

"Then that's where I'll start looking." Bruce spoke as he rose from his seat and began to head upstairs into his manner, only to have Dick stop him in his tracks.

"Hold on Bruce, I'm coming with you."

"No" Bruce responded sternly, "If I get killed someone still needs to protect the city. The best thing you could do is go to Gordon and tell him to keep a watch on crime alley foe either of the terrorists."

"Right." Dick said with a slight tone of irritation, "come on Barbara, I'll drop you off on the way to the precinct."

"Like hell you will." the former Batgirl replied with a small chuckle. "Either of us would have hard time convincing my father to be on the lookout for vampire Nazis, we might have a better chance if we go together."

* * *

><p>The night had started as a simple nighttime stroll had ended in a shit-hole bar. After beating several bouncers into bloody pulps when it turned out that he didn't have enough money to pay, the Captain found his drink sudden became free for the rest of the night. For the first time in years the Captain found himself in a situation where no amount of alcohol could make him burry his troubles. It could have been due the fact that he felt duality for the first time in half a century, or the fact that he was almost run over by a jet powered low-rider while crossing the street, but more than likely it was the fact that he couldn't go five minutes without being propositioned by a drunken slut. Hell an entire bachelorette party had offered him a gang-bang,<p>

Had it been any other night, he would have accepted the offer and satisfied every perverted desire he had, but tonight was different, tonight he simply wanted to slip into a drunken oblivion. Although Schrödinger had elevated the Captain to a nearly god like status, he felt far from worthy of that kind of praise. After all, in his mind, he was nothing more than a common traitor. He was a member of the SS and the Waffen SS at that. They were supposed to be the best that the Third Reich had to offer. But more than that, they were supposed to be loyal to their commanding officer until the end. Hell their motto was "Meine Ehre hisst Treue", "My honor is loyalty", and he had pissed that and everything else he ever stood for away, and for what? Some cat-eared boy who just happened to be a continual source of energy and a fantastic lay and just happened to have the exact same dream as him for two weeks in a row? He made himself sick sometimes; he should have let Schrödinger go on his own, and stayed and died with the rest of the Battalion.

It hadn't sunk in at first, hell, when he first arrived in Gotham, Hans was more relived to be rid of the Major than anything else. But as days turned into weeks and weeks into a month, the gravity of what he had done finally had set in. He had killed his commanding officer, and that was treason, that was the lowest of the low, murderers had more credibility then him.

And so, for the tenth time in two hours, The Captain waved the bartender over for another beer and downed it quickly, his expression only slightly flinching. American beer tasted like someone took a carbonated piss in a bottle compared to what he was used to, but in this case it was better than nothing. As he pounded back the alcoholic swill he promised himself that at the first opportunity he would ask Schrödinger why he left the battalion, and beat the answer out of the neko if necessary.

And as if thinking about Schrödinger caused him to appear, the boy materialized on top of a empty bar stool next to the Captain.

"I got ein hundred dollars, I got ein hundred dollars!" he chanted happily until he noticed that the Captain wasn't paying attention. "Mein Gott Kapitan! Bist du betrunken?" (1)

He got his answer quickly when the Captain lifted a hand and gave the boy a thumbs up.

"Christ," the neko sighed, "I thought you said you'd only drink at zhe haus. What if i need your help zu kill people, you kan't fight vhile drunk, I've seen du try remember? Zorin kicked deine Arsch!"

The Captain's thumbs up quickly changed into a middle finger. causing Schrodinger to hiss angrily at his lover.

"Come on, lets go home, i'll mach dir zome kaffe und vhen du are sober I'll find du zome food and with that, both Schrödinger and the Captain were gone, leaving the bar in peace and coaxing a relieved sigh from the Bartender.

* * *

><p>It had been a month since the London attacks, and the city was still mostly rubble. Rebuilding had begun, but progress was slow, after all the city was still under government quarantine. The official report was that a bio-terrorism attack had occurred, but Ra's al-Ghul knew better. He had agents and allies everywhere, Hellsing, Torchwood, MI6, there wasn't a single organization in England or anywhere else in the world he didn't have his fingers in some way, and they all fed him information.<p>

Currently, he had traveled to the United Kingdom to pick up a package that the good folks at Millennium promised to leave him after their suicidal attack was over. Honestly, he didn't give a shit about the Nazi's or their ideology, he funded them for one reason and one reason only, to get his hands on "She". And so, after hours of dodging patrols and walking around London he finally reached his destination, the science lab of the destroyed Deus ex Machina. The next few minutes were spent searching the wrecked room. Microscopes, beakers, and the child remnants of what at one time must have been scientific logs and notes scattered the room, however, luckily, his quarry was readily identifiable.

In the back of the room was a large metal Box, complete with chains, padlocks, and all manner of other locking mechanisms. It looked nothing short of a one man prison, a fitting end for the would be Bride of Dracula.

Approaching slowly Ra's drew a small tracking device from his belt and slipped it underneath a chain. He smiled to himself, pleased at how easily it had been to get into London and mark his prize. Bringing his fingers to his ear, he activated a concealed communicator and spoke.

"Daughter, I have placed a tracking device on my prize, intercept it when they move it from the wreck" Without even waiting for a response he continued back the way he had come, out of the zeppelin and into the hazy glare of the early morning. The sun had not actually come above the horizon yet, which gave everything around him a grayish-yellow tent. If he was lucky he'd be out of London and on his way to Wales again before noon. However, it was not to be quite so. As Ra's stepped out onto what must have once been one of London's main roads, he was frozen by someone calling out to him.

"Halt!" Backed a stern but clearly feminine voice coming from off to his side, "You are violating a government quarantine. Place your hand behind your head and walk slowly toward me."

Ra's did as he was told and beheld his opposition. A tall somewhat masculine woman in her mid-twenties with waist length blond hair and deep blue eyes, and a shorter, much more busty woman with shoulder length hair and bright red eyes. The taller of the two women was dressed in rather business-like attire, while her companion was dressed in a uniform of some sort which reminded Ra's of a cross between a military uniform and a stripper's costume.

"Ah, so I finally get to meet the famous Sir Integra Fairbrooke Wingates Hellsing and Seras Victoria. I hope you prove to be as formidable as a have been led to believe."

Integra, the woman in the business suit perked a brow behind her spectacles.

"You know of us?" she asked with a tinge of surprise, "How? Who are you?"

Ra's let out a small chuckle before responding, "Sir Hellsing, there a precious few important people in this world I know nothing about. As to who I am? My name isn't that important at the moment. All your need to know is we are fighting for the exact same thing, an end to evil and corruption in this world."

"Somehow I don't buy that." Seras, the woman in the Army/stripper uniform chimed in.

"You may not believe it, but it is true." Ra's said as he continued to approach slowly, "You want to eliminate vampires. And what gives vampires their strength? The weak willed, those who cannot stand being human, and the corrupt. If I succeed in wiping these elements from the world, it would only be a matter of time before the vampire becomes extinct as well. All you have to do is join me.

In response Seras cocked her rifle, as Integra drew a pistol and her sword. "I'll pass."

Ra's frowned, "Unfortunate ."

As soon as the word left his lips, Ra's hit the ground and drew a silver cross from his belt and threw it with deadly accuracy at Seras. He knew what she was, her eyes were a dead giveaway, and he had fended off such creatures in the past. the cross struck the young Draculina in the cheek and stuck, thanks to a specialized epoxy coating. She let out an unearthly shriek, which reminded Rs's of a pig being slaughtered as she dropped to the ground and began clawing at her face, trying to remove the offending holy object. A far cry from a killing blow, however it would keep the vampire out of the fight for a few minutes at least,

And Ra's timing could not have been any better, for as he hit the ground, Integra fired a shot which had just barely missed his head. Wasting no time, Ra's drew a wicked looking curved sword and leapt at the leader of the Hellsing organization. Integra managed to draw her own sword, a modified fencing saber, and blocked the incoming attack, showering the immediate area with sparks.

"Hmm, I see my sources weren't entirely accurate, they said you preferred to let your servants fight for you/" Ra's remarked as he withdrew and tried to sweep Integra's feet out from under her, The Hellsing leader managed to leap over the attack and counter with a downward thrust of her saber, but this was dodged as Ra's rolled out of the way and flip back up to his feet. In response Integra readied her pistol one more, bur this too was countered as Ra's spun around and kicked the weapon from her hand. Seeing an opening, Ra's struck slicing across the young woman's face, both braking her glasses and putting out her left eye.

He hand expected her to scream, writhe and beg for mercy, but instead she merely let out a cry of surprise rather than pain, and clutched her lacerated face.

"Highly, resistant to pain, courageous, and a capable fighter? I applaud you Miss Hellsing, I have not seen someone quite like you since the Maid of Orleans. I will be watching you closely"

With those parting words, Ra's turned to leave, only to be stopped once more.

"No one, NO ONE, INJURES SIR INTEGRA AND GETS TO WALK AWAY!"

Seras had managed to regain herself, and tear the silver cross away, along with most of her face. with a howl befitting a banshee, she leapt at Ra's just as he was turning to face her, her right arm becoming a long blade made of pure darkness. Ra's raised his blade in order to defend from the blow but to no effect, with a heavy blow, Seras, the fledgling of Alucard shattered her opponents sword, the rammed her arm through his chest. And then she paused. Instead of felling warm blood and hearing the snap of bone and the wet sound of organs being punctured she heard the shattering of dried clay and felt only sand.

"What? What is this illusion?"

The thing which wore the face of Ra's al-Ghul smirked before speaking. "Did you really think I'd come in person to a warzone little leech? I am far too sensible to do something so stupid. But fret not, we will meet, eventually I'm certain."

Slowly, the image of Ra's faded to reveal a statue similar to those found in the tombs of ancient Chinese emperors. With a Snarl of rage, Seras ripped her hand from the statue and hurled it away, watching with little satisfaction as it hit the ground and shattered.

Suddenly, as if a switch flipped in her mind, she regained her human composure and rushed to Integra's side.

"Sir Integra! Are you alright?" she asked.

"Aside from the missing eye and blood loss?" she asked rhetorically between groans of pain, "I will be fine, just get me back to the Manor.

"Y-yes sir!" Seras stammered, slightly embarrassed at her rather stupid question, as she lifted Integra into her arms and sped off to her destination.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And once again we've come to the end of the chapter. Join us next time. But if you want more awesomeness check out my other story Road to Valhalla: Hell's Return, or any of Master of the Boot's Fics, the man is amazing, and Hellsing X and Hellsing X Evolution by Captian Lycan, both of which are very good. And a special thanks to my co-author Master of the Boot for elping me edit this!

Translation:

(1) Mein Gott Kapitan! Bist du betrunken? = My god Captain! Are you drunk?


	6. Gunsche Begins

_Gotham News Network: With your Host Vicky Vale_

Vicky vale shows up before the camera, smiling brightly and regretting the thoughtless cruelty she inflicted on the unpopular girls in high school.

Vicky gives a bleached smile and starts off in the news. "Hello Gotham, and this is Vicki Vale with your evening news."

Vicky shifts while the camera shows a clip of a woman being raped. "Once upon a time Gotham City held the national record for rapes and murders per capita; but no more. That honor now goes to Oklahoma City; only days after the Governor made this comment.

The screen shows a shot of the governor of Oklamoma.

_Governor: It's in the bible. Woman aren't actually people and thus aren't entitled to human rights like real Americans. It's all God's word. American is all about hatred and intolerance; that's why our ancestors left he oppressive Britsh empre._

Vicky smiles quaintly at this homespun religion bunk. "Well, with Oklahoma city now surpassing Gotham's record for the last thirty years, may the governor rot in hell and be anal raped by the demons his shitty religion talks so much about."

Vicki then holds up a book. "_Vampires ate my leg_, by Stephen Colbert just reached international best seller status today. The popular right wing demagogue is one of a growing list of people who claim that London was attacked by vampires; which this station and the Brish government vehemently denies.

But if it waddles like a duck, and quacks like a duck then it must be a vampire. Stay tuned as we interview British Actor Bob hoskins after the break.

The screen changes to show the same stout Britsh actor. Bob Hoskins: _Those fucking vampires burned my house down. I'm so mad I could slash a gay man with a razor._

_Camera man: Bob, we're on the air._

_Bob: I bloody know we're on the air!_

Hans stumbled down the alleyway with his love/partner in crime Schro. The effects of the Alcohol were wearing off, but that wasn't the hard part. Chemicals didn't bother the Captain; he'd once inhaled three tanks of nerve gas in order to satisfy the Dok's boredom—another good reason that the Captain killed the mother fucker. Just because a man can inhale nerve gas and live doesn't mean that he enjoys it.

No, what was eating at the Captain was his honor; or lack thereof. Major Max had been a fat fucker; for all his ranting of war and battle the fat man had never seen combat. He secured his position through political marriage and blackmail. Hitler had eaten up the fat man's toadying and cruelty to those benath him.

That didn't matter though; the Major was his boss and Hans was honor bound to follow orders unto death. That was how Hans lived his life before being a wolf, that was how werewolves lived their lives and that was the credo of the Nazis. Even though he'd never committed any war crimes other than a little cannibalism he'd always been a loyal Nazi and a loyal German.

A can crunched underfoot where Hans stepped, his short partner guiding him on. He wasn't in the mood to teleport tonight. The air of Gotham was polluted but it was cold; and the Captain wanted to inhale these damn fumes. He felt like shit and felt like kicking himself.

He hardly even noticed it when Schro announced they were home. Hans glanced around. Here in a back alley of the city was a clean matress lain on the filthy ground, with a giant stack of stolen library books for the Captain. He hardly even noticed Schrodinger babble.

"Ja! Ve'll be moving out of this dump soon. Herr Scarface already paid mich a huge bag of money und ve'll buy a big house!" The neko teleported around in flashes whil he ranted. "Und that house vill have a schwimming pool, und lots of girls und a snack bar und…" and it kept going like that.

Hans just looked at Schrodinger; trying for the life of him to figure out what his feelings for the catboy actually were. There was lust; but did he really think that this hyper active little thing was worth the loss of his honor.

The captain lay down, nodding and letting the catboy talk. It was times at this that he felt lonely; he hadn't seen another wolf in so long. He's searched for years and years, but he was always alone.

Vampires though; he founds lots of those

Hans realized that he was hungry again, and as luck would have it, there was a homeless person aimlessly wandering into the alleyway.

Schrodinger grinned and cackled gleefully; he always enjoyed seeing his lover hunt. Like any good fascist Schrodinger reveled in death and the torment of those lower down in the racial and cultural hierarchy. "_hehe_, get him!"

The Captain needed no prompting and began to walk towards the hooded vagrant who was mumbling and talking to himself. The vagrant pushed along a shopping cart full of empty cans and bottles; further proof of the decadence of the capitalism of the post-Nazi world.

The Captain's normally impassive face twisted a bit as he caught a whiff of the homeless man's smell. He was honestly getting tired of human flesh; it was too fatty and more often than not the humans he ate were on drugs or ate bad food.

Still, beggars can't be choosers and the hunting instinct took over the Captain. The giant werewolf towered over the hunched beggar in his filthy hooded robe. A mere crippled mortal vs a supernatural being; a being of myth and legend; larger than life.

Hans reached down to wring the man's neck like a chicken, when suddenly the beggar moved first.

The Captain's eyes widened in surprise as the homeless man stuffed something into Hans's mouth. It was some sort of cylindrical object; either a coke can or a grenade.

_BANG!_

The explosive in Hans's mouth went off, creating a flash and a loud noise that threw the Captain back ten feet.

Schrodinger jumped in surprise. "_Was_?" he asked himself.

The Captain staggered after having a flashback go off in his mouth; but this was no ordinary flashbag grenade. He winced at the strong taste in his mouth

_Garlic? _He thought, right before his attacker revealed himself.

Thrown back was the filthy and piss stained cloak, away was kicked the shopping cart. In its place stood a creature who was just as much myth and legend as a werewolf. The legendary Batman himself stood before hands; his cape standing up like the wings of a giant demon bat.

Still choking on Garlic, the Captain got into fighting stance; spreading his legs and holding up his hands in a pseudo martial arts pose. He wasn't' afraid of the Batman like the cowardly and superstitious criminals of this town; if the Bat wanted a fight then Hans was going to show him all the powers of hell.

The Batman looked up at his foe. Yes, this was the bastard that crossed the street and almost got run over by the damn Batmobile. Keeping a stiff upper lip, Batman actually sneered at the Captain; as if to say "_Yeah you got shit on me, your ass is grass_."

Instead however, Batman said to the Captain. "You have one chance to surrender, vampire."

This caused the Captain to bristle. Vampire? Was the Bat truly blind? Did he honestly see a giant tick or leech here?

The showoff between Batman and Hans was interrupted by Schrodinger who teleported in and out of reality; moving from place to place. "Ha! Sie sind the great Batman? HA!" He cackled gleefully, teleporting right in front of Batman, who looked as annoyed as anybody did when Schrodinger turned up. "Ha, Batman, du bist nothing but a homosexual in a rubber costume!"

Batman for the most part was annoyed. Privately, Bruce Wayne hated kids and was grateful that Selina Kyle was on the pill. "I'll deal with you later, kid." He dismissed, reaching into his utility belt and grabbing something that looked like a bottle of Windex.

Schrodinger laughed again and poked Batman in the abs. "HA! You going to clean my vindows, gay-Bat?"

In response, Batman fired a spray of Windex in Schrodinger's eyes; causing the neko to shriek in pan and stumble back. A blinded Schrodinger hobbled away until he tripped over something and fell face first into a puddle.

Mentally, Batman was categorizing how these two vampires were stacking up to the legends. _Vampires are supposed to have animal traits but none of the legends mention cat ears. Do vampires commit bestiality? Must file these questions for later_

At that very same moment, Hans charged at the Batman; ready to rip the caped crusader's head off like he'd done a thousand times before. But this is the goddamn Batman.

As Hans's hands were inches away from Batman's throat; a powerful LED based lighting system lit up on Batman's chest.

A whole section of Batman's chest turned into a giant glowing cross bright enough to instantly blind a human. Batman's own eyes were protected by the goggles in his cowl; Hans wasn't so lucky.

The Werewolf kept on reaching for his enemy but he found only empty air. As he tried to blink the blindness from his eyes, Hans swung around with a fist to try and knock the Batman back.

"POCKET SAND!" he heard, right before taking a load of sand to the eyes.

The mute Captain fell back, retreating from the threat of the Batman. In vain he tried to rub the sand out of his eyes but it only damaged them more. And this wasn't ordinary sand; it was sand mixed in with ground silver shards.

Batman observes the retreating werewolf who now held his hands to his injured eyes. Internally Batman was smiling; he couldn't count the number of times he'd beaten the Joker or Penguin by throwing sand or scouring powder in their eyes. Business hadn't been so good at Wayne enterprises lately, so Bruce sold his yachts and economized with some of his Batman equiptment.

Schrodinger watched in horror as his lover was getting his ass kicked by a man dressed like _Die Fledermaus_. He wanted to intervene but a part of him reasoned that Hans had this covered; Batman was only a man and he'd get eaten.

Schrodinger's confidence melted when Batman grabbed his gauntlet and hit a button there. There was a giant roar of an engine as a collapsible chainsaw blade jutted out of Batman's armor. Three feet of gears, metal teeth and blessed silver was held out by Batman like a sword from hell.

_RRRRRRRRRRRR!_ Batman's chainsaw growled as he lunged at the Captain.

The blinded werewolf still has his hearing and dodged the strike of Batman's chainsaw; which would have lopped off his right arm. A large hole was torn in the Captain's great coat was shredded by the whirring teeth

Batman swung the lethal chainsaw again, the razor sharp teeth catching the brim of the Captain's hat and pulling it off.

The Captain swung, using the noise of Batman's chainsaw to locate his target. Batman however was prepared for that.

From an automatic ejector in his left gauntlet, Batman fired a trio of flashbang grenades. Robin called these things the _BFB's_ or big fucking bombs; given that each one of these flashbangs was powerful enough to knock out a small gang. Three of them would be lethal; just not to a vampire.

The three flashbang grenades threw Hans back like a physical punch. With his eyes down, his ears were also taken out of the equation. He hit the concrete pavement hard enough to crack it with his hard, heavy body.

Out of nowhere, Schrodigner lunged at Batman with a knife but Batman knocked him away with a swipe.

The Catboy teleported away and pulled his derringer on Baatman, but again the dark knight was used to people pulling guns on him. Batman pulled out his own gadget while dealing with Hans. An electromagnetic field was created which caused copper and brass in bullets to expand, rending Schrodinger's gun unable to fire. The catboy hissed and spit like a real cat as he tried to get his gun to fire.

The Captain tried to get up, only to feel something sticky and gluey fill his ears. In a split second while the Captain was prone, the Batman had taken super strong adhesive glue and filled the Captain's ears with it. Batman knew that a vampire would have superhuman senses so he had ways to deal with that.

Cakes of thick, hardening glue covered the Captain's ears and Batman casually tossed away the glue gun; knowing that the device was built to self destruct.

The, the Batman began to kick the Captain in the nuts as hard as he could.

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM! Went Batman's steel toed boots.

The Captain shot up and put a hand over his groin, but it was Batman who made noises of pain. The toe of Batman's boot was dented and several of Batman's toed were broken. Did this guy have balls of steel or something? Was he Duke Nukem or a relative of superman? The legends indicated that vampires were reanimated corpses; this guy didn't feel like a walking corpse.

So, ignoring the pain in his broken toes. Batman reached into his utility belt for what looked like a pair of plastic ampoules.

Hans, deaf and blind, swung a fist at Batman; but sparks flew at Batman's chainsaw cut into Hans's arm and sliced it right off, just above the elbow.

Holding the precious ampoules in his hand, Batman swung the chainsaw again; this time slicing off Hans's left leg below the knee. As he saw the Captain's arm regenerating, he swung again and sliced off the remains of the arm off at the shoulder.

Missing an arm and a leg, the Captain reached out and grabbed Batman's chainsaw. Red wolf's blood ran down Hans's hand as he crushed the chainsaw; reducing Batman's deadly toy to twisted metal.

Cursing, Batman pressed a button on his glove next to his thumb that released the chainsaw.

It was then that Batman struck with his secret weapon. He needed to neutralize all the vampire's superior senses; all he needed to do now was neutralize smell.

Acting fast, Batman took the two ampoules and jammed them up the captain's nose.

The werewolf's eyes, bloodied and bleeding shot wide open as a mixture of garlic, wasabi, assorted chemical agents and worst of all—wolfsbane—was injected into either of his nostrils.

Bieng a wolf; the Captain's most important sense was his smell and now he had not only powerful wasabi on his delicate nose but also wolfsbane, a triditional weakness of the wolves.

The plant known as monkshood or wolfsbane has long been a powerful poison and known to be a repellant to supernatural creatures such as vampries and werewolves. Even without the supernatural aspects; the stuff would cause burning, nausea, sickness and in humans death.

For Hans, having a nose of wolfsbane right in the nose was he worst pain he'd experienced in his life.

He threw off Batman, who hit a stone wall and went down with some broken ribs. Hans couldn't make any noise; but if he could he'd be screaming loud enough for the whole city to hear. He clawed at his face until it was shredded to bits. He dug at his own nose and scooped out bloody chunks of nasal tissue; but none of it helped. He even began slamming his face into the pavement to stop the pain.

Not one to let a little thing like broken ribs stop him; Batman reached into his utility belt and this time pulled out a collapsible sledgehammer with multiple religious symbols etched on the head.

Raising his hammer high, Batman charged at the Captain like a lunatic. A man dressed like a bat is just funny; a man dressed like a bat with a sledge hammer about to smash someone's head in with a look of twisted fury on their face is a pants pissing fear inducing sight.

_CLANG!_

Batman felt the vibrations go up his arm; for sure he was going to get severe arthritis from this. Bringing up his hammer once more, Batman slammed it down on Hans's head. Batman brought up that hammer and took it down like some kind of railroad machine. He kept on slamming and slamming with that ten pound titanium steel head until the Captain's movements were becoming slower and slower.

Batman was exhausted; his lungs were on fire and his toes and ribs were killing him. But he could not let a vampire loose in the city—if this creature here really was a vampire. Batman wouldn't kill; he couldn't even stake count Dracula if he misted in here right now; but he was going to take this vampire—or other creature—as his prisoner.

Hans lay on the ground, beaten and broken. His eyes were still burning from the sand and silver mix, his ears were blocked deaf by the epoxy glue mix and his nose was burning like fire. Batman's sledgehammer headache cure was only the icing on the shit cake.

"LET HIM GO!" screamed a shrill voice, causing Batman to spin around. "OR I VILL KILL ZE HOSTAGE!"

Before him was Schrodinger, derringer abandoned and knife in hand. That knife was pressed to the throat of a five year old girl; probably some street child. The little girl was stained with dirt; clothes and skin alike. As a street child of Gotham she probably had seen death every day and her chances of reaching adulthood were slim; and the Batman still cared for her.

Sneering at Schrodinger, Batman laid eyes on the child. The little girl's eyes were wide but free of tears; it was as if she'd resigned herself to a wasted life and early death.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Batman dropped his sledge hammer and edged away from the downed werewolf.

Schrodinger gave a cruel grin; it reminded Batman of pictures of child soldiers he'd seen in newspapers and in person on his travels.

"Nice outfit," Schrodinger complimented. He could see the Batman's weakness now; perhaps his only weakness—he had a conscience.

To his credit, Batman didn't bat an eyelash at Schrodinger. He actually . . . smiled.

It wasn't a full toothy grin like Alucard had, or a mad, deranged smile like the major. No, this was the smile of a sane man; a sane, dangerous and very cruel man. Like a silent film actor, Batman told Schrodinger all he needed to hear without saying a word.

Then like an old west gunslinger, Batman's hand shot out with a grappling gun and shot at Schrodinger.

The neko flinched as a grapnel head sunk into the wall just inches from his head. He'd been killed dozens of times and couldn't die; but this was truly the first time someone had missed.

"Ha!" he couldn't help but taunt, "Missed mich!"

Batman acted like a striking cobra, grabbing the line and pulling it as hard as he could. A large chunk of alley wall was pulled off (due to Gotham's shitty building codes) and hit Schrodinger in the back of the head.

The cat boy shot up . . . and found no trace of either Batman or the hostage. He only saw the Captain there.

It was as he helped up the Captain that the more . . . human elements of Schrodinger came out.

The neko began to cry; fat tears welled out of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He was almost unrecognizable from the cruel, heartless monster in the body of a child who'd threatened to murder an innocent.

Consumed with love for the Captain . . . Schrodinger looked almost human.

As he frantically grabbed onto the Captain and teleported out of there, Batman watched from afar. Behind the white lenses of his cowl, Batman's eyes narrowed. First contact with the enemy had provided valuable intel on the abilities of his two foes; most importantly Batman knew that he had a long, Bloody struggle ahead of him.

_Audio log of Hugo Strange: October 28_

_This is Professor Hugo Strange with another update of my labors to overthrow the Batman._

_My good "friend" Gaston is finally ready to go out into the night. While the subject is weak to ultraviolet light and silver alloys he remains far above the human norm for physical abilities._

_I'm afraid that his mental faculties are nearly gone—good. Now he'll only do what I say._

_Now all I have to do is pay that fucking electric bill. I've been shrouded in darkness since noon. I'm finding my way around the laboratory with a flashlight_

_[sounds of screaming/animal howling are heard]_

_Ah, it looks like Gaston is hungry again. Well, I guess I had better ring the dinner bell. _

Commissioner Gordon looked down at the speech in his hands with a dry mouth. In front of him were hundreds of Gotham City socialites and the well to do's of the city. Somewhere in the background, an ambulance was taking away some big shot industrialist for a minor heart attack brought on by too many fucking devilled eggs.

A rat crawled over his foot, hosted in the major's residence; the City's elected leader loved to spend tax payers money on lavish fundraisers but not on goddamn pest control. Part of the reason that Gordon hadn't had any of the food here.

Time slowed down as Jim Gordon looked at his speech again, feeling like a character stuck in some shitty noir film but unable to escape the lousy script that had been handed to him.

A police helicopter soared across the sky, blinking like a UFO. That seemed to snap Gordon out of his trance.

He cleared his throat, "I just sat through the latest Christopher Nolan movie with my nephew." He told the crowd, "It was ninety minutes of speech after speech, each one more pretentious than the last. You fuckers can use your imaginations and make up your own speech. I'm gone."

With that, he tossed aside his carefully scripted speech and walked off the podium; giving the middle finger to the city's most powerful people.

Walking past the stunned crowd, Gordon barely noticed the short, fat Mayor running after him. "Dammit Gordon, you just shit all over my re-election fundraiser! I'm going to take it out of your budget."

Gordon barely paid the man any mind, "Mr Mayor, I've dealt with non-stop budget cuts since your stay in office began. When an army of super villains are breathing down my neck and Batman is my only help, you've seen fit to give me less men and resources. Good day. Don't count on my vote."

The Major started to froth and grabbed Gordon's fine coat, "Maybe if you stopped the goddamn bat from taking the law into his own hands I'd be more generous to you!"

Gordon was almost at the exit of the Mayor's nice garden party and brushed of his superior, "But you have no problem with super villains breaking the law in their own hands. Good day,"

The mayor was left behind as Gordon started to walk to his car. His cell phone rang and he was obliged to answer. "Hello?" Pause, "Montoya, a murder?" Pause, "What? I'll be right there."

_Audio Diary of Jeremiah Arkham: _

_I got this audio recorder for Christmas so here goes . . . _

_I'm just going to say it, Arkham Asylum is a fucking Joke. The walls contain asbestos, the entire facility is crumbling and super criminals are kept in the same cells as career criminals and anorexic teenagers. _

_My position here as head of the asylum is largely ceremonial; I'm more or less on welfare. Ever since Lexcorp took over running the asylum in the late eighties, things have gone to shit. _

_Only the other day the Joker escaped, actually escaped is a bad word. he walked out of his cell because the guards forgot to shut his cell door. Worse, they didn't stop him because they were on lunch break._

_Fuck my life . . . I don't make enough for this shit. _

Commissioner Gordon arrived at the crime scene, and to his great fortune there were no bodies here. The concrete and brick of this one dingy alley were torn to shreds; meta-humans had fought here but there was no way to tell who'd fought and who was the winner or loser.

As he walked in the brisk Gotham air, Gordon winced at the sight of Harvey Bullock; showing off a foot of asscrack as he bent over some hot young CSI lady to get a good look down her shirt.

"Bullock, you fat piece of shit; have you no pride?"

Bullock stood up and cracked a smile and took a puff off his cheap cigar, "Hey Commish, welcome to the party." The hefty detective chuckled, as they were joined by the svelte and fit Rene Montoya.

"Commissioner," the attractive detective greeted her boss. "things are a mess down here."

Bullock piped up between puffs, "We got reports of a disturbance about ten minutes ago, lots of property damage but no hostages, no guns and no witnesses."

Gordon bent over and observed what the CSI was photographing. It looked like someone had their face slammed with such force into the pavement that it formed a perfect print of their face. Definitely going to need a plaster cast on that one. "There were no witnesses?"

Bullock laughed, "Were we so lucky," he then flicked some of his cigar ashes onto the crime scene; earning him a dirty look from the CSI and her fellow investigators. Bullock revelled in it.

The commissioner however had little patience for the slob detective, whose immunity to bribes was his sole good personality trait. "You'd better have something good for me here, Bullock. I just insulted the mayor and backed out of a speech I was assigned to give. I need some excuse so that I can at least keep my job."

Lucky Montoya was there, "Don't worry Commissioner, we actually found something good that really needs your attention." She elaborated as she pointed to the wall at the back end of the alley. "We actually were about to contact you."

This got Jim's eyebrow raised with intrigue, "I'm listening."

Several more CSI techs were photographing the back wall, where Jim noticed that somebody had scratched something into the shoddy concrete. The head police man of Gotham city frowned, "Is that German?"

"Meine Ehre heißt Treue," filled in Bullock, grinning a bit as he spat the ugly disintegrating stub of his cigar out.

This mean nothing to Gordon, "So, our suspect likes Rammstein?"

The overweight cop chuckled, "My loyalty is my honor; motto of the SS, Hitler's big boys." Bullock might have been a disgusting slob but he wasn't useless. "We think our guy could be some whacked out skinhead, skid mark Kraut bastard who got too close to the microwave and got radioactive powers."

This in turn made Montoya roll her eyes, "We suspect it's a meta-human; the marks on the wall were made with something organic; like an animal claw or something. Further analysis is pending. We think that this meta-human could be involved in the deaths of nearly a dozen vagrants in the narrows Slum district. At each of the crimes there was some kind of animal matter left behind, like either a bit of hair of some scraping off of a claw. Lab is still holding out on us as to what kind of animal matter it is."

Gordon nodded, before catching a glimpse of the famous night wing on the roof above them.

Blink.

And just like that, Nightwing was gone, but Gordon knew that he'd caught a glimpse of the him for a reason.

Changing the subject to his two detectives he said, "I'm going to go get some coffee. You want anything? Bullock, two dozen frosted donuts?"

Bullock seemed offended by this, "Hey you know I'm on a diet. Get me half a dozen donuts."

Nightwing smiled as he saw the commissioner approach the deserted pier. Next to Dick Grayson was a laptop with a stylized "O" on the screen. Barbara had been reading way too much Death Note lately. "Glad you could join us, Jim," greeted the former partner of Batman.

Gordon shrugged with his coffee and a half dozen donuts. "I personally like meeting with you better. You're still there when I look away."

Nightwing laughed at this, "Yeah he does that, but he really loves you."

"**We have new information about your new meta-human.**" spoke the voice of the Oracle over the laptop, voice heavily distorted. "**The enemy you're now hunting down is a vampire**."

At this, Gordon just stared blankly for a few seconds. "this is real, right, you're not just jerking my chain."

Nightwing held out his hands apologetically, "Hey, I appreciate where you're coming from. But this guy is a vampire. Batman fought the bastard not that long ago and fought to a standstill."

"**Also, this meta human isn't alone**_**." **_

This was almost getting too crazy for Gordon, "So who's his partner, the wolf man?"

Nightwing laughed a bit, knowing that at any moment Gordon would probably just walk off and ignore them. "Well, it's kinda . . . you know what, I'll just level with you. We think your new enemy is an eight foot tall Nazi Vampire that hangs out with a teleporting boy in a Hitler youth uniform with cat ears."

Somehow, Oracle sensed Jim's skepticism through the computer and pacified the old man. "**We have video footage of the battle from Batman's cowl cameras. We also have our own forensic reports that are now being uploaded directly to your work e-mail."**

"**Right now we can't tell you much about the vampire; just that so far he's got no real weakness to garlic or UV light and we can't conclusively tell if he hates crosses and his body seems to be nearly as hard as that of superman.**_**" **_

"Basically we've got nearly shit on the guy, except that possibly he was a member of the group that attacked London recently," Nightwing elaborated, "What we're trying to say is that for the time being, have your men alert and make sure that they don't engage this guy. Now he's about eight feet tall so he shouldn't be hard to spot. But don't piss him off until we give you more info about how to bring the fucker down."

The older man drained the last of his coffee and gave Nightwing a sideways look. "Son, I don't believe in vampire Nazis or wolf men from the moon, but I'm not just going to wait for you and your buddies to feed me info. I'll be doing my own investigation with my team; I work with you, not for you."

Nightwing nodded, respecting Gordon's position, but he had a last warning for the cop. "We'll meet again. This guy's been shaken, been beaten and hurt; but he's not dead. More than likely, we've either driven him into hiding or driven him to commit acts of insane murder that he'd never have considered before. We could well have a war on our hands with this crazy vampire and his cat friend."

Somewhere in Gotham City, Hugo strange reviewed the stolen memories from his now destroyed Nazi captive. The depraved psychiatrist fast forwarded through memories, trying to sift through a lifetime of data in a single evening. Most of his early life was worthless, but even the time the soldier spent as a vampire was hardly significant. He was just a grunt, a mook on the bottom of the food chain.

But there was one thing that stood out, a recurring memory of a soldier of gigantic height with blonde hair and a wolfish demeanour; somebody that even the hardened vampires had feared and the strange cat boy adored.

Hugo grinned as a revelation took him, the cat, the cat that appeared everywhere and nowhere at once.

Now, why did that ring a bell?

It was something to do with an old physics experiment . . .

**Author's Note: **And we're back! We apologize for not updating sooner, but real life and other commitments have limited our free time. But we have returned and should be updating this more frequently. This chapter has been brought to you by Master of the Boot and a healthy dose of hatred for Christopher Nolan. Until next time, this is Baxyratty signing off!


End file.
